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COPYRIGHT DEPOSm 



THE BOY ON THE FARM 

AND 

OTHER NARRATIVES 
IN VERSE 




MURRAY WHITING FERRIS 



The Boy on tne Farm 

ana otner Narratives 

m Verse 



B: 



MURRAY WHITING FERRIS 

I) 



New York 

Eaton and Gcitinget 

1916 






Copyright, 1916 
By MURRAY WHITING FERRIS 



V 



n 



APR 2i 1916 

©C1,A427917 



G 



Introduction 

E doesn't claim to be a poef, 
And he uses simple words 
To tell about the woodlands, 
Or the songs of common birds, 



Or to tell some little anecdote 
In words of easy rhyme. 
That often may be commonplace, 
But sometimes they are fine, 

And bring to you fond memories 
Of days that are gone by; 
Some lines to you will bring a smile, 
Some thoughts may bring a sigh. 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

The Boy on the Farm 1 

Spring 8 

Autumn 11 

September Sunset 12 

Raindrops 14 

Mountain Brook 18 

Musings 20 

Easter Thoughts 23 

Creed 24 

Temptation 26 

Contentment 28 

Drifting 30 

The Ocean 32 

The Thousand Islands 35 

MusKOKA Lakes 41 

The "Round Table" . 45 

"Round Table" Cruise 47 

To Commodore John W. Bird 51 

"Round Table" Dinner 52 

While It Snows 57 

Country Life 58 

Waiting 60 

Those Women 62 

Waldorf Roof Garden 6v^ 

New Year's Eve at the Waldorf 66 

Count Miyatovich 69 

In Bohemia 70 

A Certain Town 12 

To Our Host and Hostess 75 

To Emma Cecelia Thursby 76 

Lasting Friendships 78 



C ONTENTS— Continued 

PAGE 

A Balsam Pillow 80 

The Cricket 84 

The Blue Bird 86 

At the Hunt Club 88 

Recreation 89 

A Tale of a Dog 90 

A Farmer 92 

In the City 93 

Lewiston Orchards 94 

The House that "Jack" Built 96 

A Visit to Mexico 99 

Trip to the Mines 106 

Mining Experience 112 

On the Old Plantation 114 

The Wind 122 

Central Park 126 

At the Obelisk 130 

Bronx Park 132 

Trout Fishing 136 

A Remembrance 138 

To D. M. McL 139 

Hobbies 140 

Troubles 142 

Jingles 143 



ILLUSTRATIONS 



PAGE 



Portrait of Author viv' 

We Hear a Whistle 5* 

When Turning in My Office Chair 21 « 

You Will Notice the Fireplace 35.-' 

He Has Faith in His Craft .......... 47 *^ 

We are Not Short of Sailors 49 *' 

This "Patio'' is Sometimes a Most Delightful Spot ... 63 ^ 

Where Golden Sunlight Streaming Through .... 81 »^' 

Sometimes a Canvasback . 89 ♦^ 

The Porches are Turned into Green, Leafy Bowers ... 95 ^ 

Built Cathedrals by the Score 103 *• 

The Indian Women Will Sometimes Come to Swim ... Ill • 

Captain Rogers with His Good Oyster Boat 115 "^ 

The Mammoth Leaves of Palm Trees 119 * 

You Hunt the Running Deer 121 r 

You Hunt for Quail 121* 

Long, Clinging Moss Hangs From the Boughs 127*' 

What You Caught in Early Morning 137 » 

You See Abundant Flowers 139 1 

The Author 143/ 



Pref 



ace 



M^^^HE writing of these verses has been to 
M J me a new form of recreation. Narra- 
^^^ tive in rhyme seems to have a sort of 
fascination about it, leading on from one subject 
to another. I make no pretension that these 
verses have literary merit, but if they are of 
interest to my friends, it will add to the pleasure 

of 

the Author, 

Murray Whiting Ferris 



Keo^cei:eo5oss:B:&:&:eos^^ 



Xke Boy on tke Farm 

^fc-^i^E is much to be envied, that light hearted boy, 
W ■ With cheeks all aglow, and his heart full of joy. 
^ ^ His hair is all tousled, but his eyes are as bright 
As the stars that we see on a clear winter night. 
He breathes the pure air; he is brim full of health. 
His is a condition far better than wealth. 

His constant companion, from morn until night. 
Is his dog — He'll not let him get out of his sight. 
They roam over fields, everywhere on the farm. 
The dog will be sure to keep him from harm. 



There is not a spot within many a mile. 
That the boy does not know — he will tell with a 
Of the bird he has found, just building a nest, 
It may be a thrush or a robin red breast. 



smile 



You hear a bird's song, and before you can think. 
He will tell you the bird is a male bobolink. 
For his feathers are beautiful, all gold and black. 
And his song is so sure; you can't mistake that. 



^»:e:8:8:8:8:e:e:8:8:8:8:8:03:8:8:e:8:8:8»»^ 



THE BOY ON THE FARM— Continued 

He can tell where a muskrat lives down by the pond, 
Where a woodchuck has built a new house underground, 
He knows where the rabbits are hid in the hedges. 
He knows where the chipmunks have homes in the ledges. 
That down in the meadows concealed in a mound, 
Is the home of some field mice he recently found. 

From a hickory branch he made a strong bow, 
Good arrows are made from white ash as you know. 
To hunt for wild animals he made up his mind. 
He travelled the woods to see what he could find. 
He shot at a squirrel far up in a tree. 
But the squirrel escaped it, as nice as could be. 
He then saw two rabbits, partly hid by a stone, 
Although he shot twice, he did not get one. 

In this very woods not many years back, 

Wild Indians roamed; he was now on their track, 

A thick clump of trees he would carefully scan, 

To see if there were hidden an Indian man. 

Look! Was that branch a feather, or a stone tomahawk? 

He was so flabergasted, that he hardly could walk. 

As the darkness came on he was stricken with fear. 

He made a bee line for home, with his dog in the rear. 

He was a mile from his home ; it was now getting dark, 
But his fears were dispelled by the dog's joyful bark. 
Now he drew near the house, his tramp had brought hunger ; 
Every boy is the same, this is not any wonder. 



[2] 



>o^:s:eceos:^o^o^o^o^c&:^^^ 



THE BOY ON THE FARM— Continued 

As he went in the gate — my! what did he smell? 
His Mother's fresh doughnuts — he just gave a yell, 
And rushed in the house — the dog went in too, 
He always was welcome — they all loved him so. 
Those doughnuts of Mother's when fresh from the pot, 
Are worth more to a boy than a ten acre lot. 

He was fond of all fruit ; peach, apple and pear. 
The same kind of boy can be found everywhere. 

They had an old horse that he sometimes would ride, 
With a rope for a bridle, he'd climb up astride, 
Would jog down the road, from every care free, 
No Prince on his charger as happy as he. 

He rode to the village some two miles away. 
This journey for him made a "Red letter" day. 
When on the way home the horse was so lazy, 
He gave a cut with his whip; then you'd have thought the 
horse crazy. 

He forgot he was old, and he ran like a deer. 
The boy hung to his mane, though filled with much fear. 
Lost his hat and his whip, but he stuck to the horse, 
Then the neighbors ran out, much frightened bf course 

At a runaway horse with a boy on his back ; 
It was on the old road, not on a race track. 



[3] 



THE BOY ON THE FARM—Continued 

And the neighbors expected the boy would be thrown, 
But he hung to the mane, like a dog to a bone. 
When the old horse had run for more than a mile, 
He thought he would stop and rest for a while. 
When the boy had the chance he got down on the ground, 
Glad to feel that he still was all safe and sound. 

Walked back half a mile to look for his hat, 
He thought walking was safer than riding horseback. 
In the course of an hour he was safely at home. 
He had hoped for adventure, this day he had some. 

He sat on the old bridge that was over the brook, 

He bent up a pin to make a fish hook. 

From a cord in his pocket he made a fish line. 

He had cut a straight pole, and was soon fixed up fine. 

Far down in the brook where the water was dark, 

He had seen a big fish — it must be a carp. 

With eyes sharp as a hawk, he then looked again, 
And there in the shadow he saw it quite plain. 
As keen as a hunter, he carefully dropped 
His line to the nose of the fish ; there it stopped. 
The fish took a nibble and this was his last. 
With the hook in his mouth, he pulled him up fast. 
Success now was certain, he laughed at the sight. 
Like a genuine fisherman, filled with delight. 

He got large flat stones ; made figure 4 traps. 

These baited with parsnip, caught many muskrats. 

The stretched skins like trophies, he nailed on the barn door, 



[4] 




WE HEAR A WHISTLE AND A SNATCH OF SONG 
See page 21 



y:s:eo^o^o&:eo^o^ceo^c^^ 



THE BOY ON THE FARM—Continued 

Like the scalps that the Indians took long before. 
When the pedlers came round who sold needles and pins, 
He made quite some money by selling the skins. 

As the day wears toward evening down near the pond, 
You can hear the frogs croak — you know by the sound. 
They have a great chorus; they sing all the night, 
These voices of nature fill his heart with delight. 
The trees throw their shadows far over the pond, 
Of such things in nature he grew very fond. 

He would lie on the bank — look up at the skies. 

He had once climbed the hill to see the sun rise. 

His mother had taught — God made all beautiful things ; 

And that we should praise him; just as the bird sings. 

In the warm summer days they had many a swim; 
The boy and the dog would together go in. 
A good collie dog is a very true friend, 
Through trial and hardship he'll stick to the end. 

When it comes early Fall and there's frost in the air. 
You may know that the fish will be biting for fair, 
And that is the time when you catch the big fish, 
And much before noon you have all that you wish. 

They had a rowboat that was built with a tank. 
The water came in through holes made in the plank, 
Each fish soon as caught was thrown in it alive. 
Sometimes they were plenty as bees in a hive. 



[5] 



THE BOY ON THE FARM— Continued 



Fish lines were made ready the evening before, 
That there be no delay when the clock struck four ; 
They would count it a joy if at break of day 
They could get out to fish nearly five miles away. 

The pond in the winter was covered with ice, 

And Christmas brought skates which he thought very nice. 

But he ventured out far where the ice was too thin. 

And before he could turn the boy had slipped in. 

He was inclined to be rather a venturesome chap ; 

This icy cold water soon cured him of that. 

With the help of the dog he crawled up on the bank. 

Said: "That I was not drowned, I have God to thank." 

All through the winter he attended the school ; 

The teacher acknowledged that he was no fool ; 

He could always be found near the head of his class ; 

Though the other boys worked hard, he'd not let them pass. 

He told his good mother; in fact gave a pledge 

That when he got older he would go to the college. 

This boy liked to roam over hills and through wood, 
He would thus spend his hours whenever he could. 
This time was not wasted; he would closely observe 
Every flower on the hillside ; every kind of a bird. 
On the beauties of nature he was very intent. 
So this time in observing was very well spent. 

This boy likes to work as well as to play. 

In the bright days of June he helps make the hay. 

Then on the hay wagon, just think of the fun. 

As they drive toward the barn, when the days work is done. 



^o^:)tjoi^o^o^:iSO^i:^:^c^^^ 



THE BOY ON THE FARM— Continued 

He worked in the garden ; planted corn, beans and peas, 
When he weeded the onions, got down on his knees, 
His trousers were worn; he had no need of shoes. 
This bare footed boy's happy, whatever he does. 
To have nothing to do can give us no pleasure; 
We must earnestly work or we can't enjoy leisure. 

Those memories of childhood; how in after years 
They loom through the mist, seen sometimes through tears ; 
In the turmoil of life, 'mid the stress and the strain. 
Fond memory brings us back to childhood again. 



[7] 



spring 

OID you ever listen to the voices of Spring, 
While the warmth of the Sun was transforming 
all things? 
The frozen earth now coming back to life, 
From the dead winter to a new born strife, 
For new and better than had been before ; 
The ground had kept the germs of seeds in store, 
To multiply their beauties and to make more fair, 
The hills and valleys stretching everywhere. 
That which had long seemed dead was now awake. 
Coming to life; they did their tomb forsake. 

The frost has left; the moistened earth is now awake, 
The early plants push through; their places take 
In the great scheme that nature begins to unfold. 
And every man who will, can its beauty behold. 
From every bush and tree the buds are growing, 
New life from every twig and branch is showing, 
And many trees are clothed in living green. 
In every thing the hand of God can now be seen. 

The fields are now showing a new Spring dress. 
In the brooks are now growing the fresh watercress, 



[8] 



SPRING— -Continued 

The snowdrop now peeking just up from the grass, 
The dandelion bloom stands like bright shining brass. 
In many a cottage, on the broad window sills. 
The housewife with pride shows her first daffodils. 
And down the pathway leading to the gate, 
Are rows of tulips, jonquils, all arrayed in state. 
And near the woodland now so fair to see. 
We find trailing arbutus and anemone. 

Go look there about, in shrub or in bush. 

Perhaps you may see a speckled brown thrush; 

Then hark for the chirp of his sweet Spring song, 

Don't make any commotion for fear he'll be gone. 

But the red breasted robin don't fear you or me, 

He sits boldly there on the limb of a tree. 

He early will help his mate build a nest. 

Of all gentle home birds, we like him the best. 

For all through the Springtime you hear his clear note ; 

You can see the tune start if you look at his throat. 

Sometimes in the winter he stays through the snow ; 
He hides in the cedars when wintry winds blow ; 
And often the bluebird in his beautiful coat. 
Will add to the chorus a melodious note. 
You may look for the fairies in some woodland dell ; 
Just where you can find them you never can tell. 

The bright Spring sunshine, and the soft gentle showers, 
Transform the bare branches into gay leafy bowers. 
As the night with its shadow disappears with the dawn, 



[9] 



<id:i^^B:is::s:scecec&:i^^ 



SPRING— -Continued 

So the winter's cold snow storms are finished and gone. 
The grass on the hillside that was barren and brown, 
Now is fresh as a maiden who has a new gown. 

The gentle showers now fill the babbling brook, 
Its music is the theme of many a charming book. 
Spring is the time that men and maidens love. 
Now in the woodland can be heard the cooing dove. 
Young men enamoured look into their sweethearts eyes. 
Think they are surely angels and praise them to the skies. 



[10] 



<BX050^03:&:i^os:&:s:e^^ 




Autumn 

BLAZE of glory covers every tree, 
As if the golden sunset cast its reflected splendor 

O'er the woodland. 

No brush can paint such colors, 
But as the frost nips every leaf. 
Like the Chameleon does it change its hue 
To gold, or crimson or to russet brown 
To vie with every color that the flowers can show. 
And every bush and tree is draped 
Anew with splendor, 
Until over the landscape. 
Far as the eye can see 
Is bank on bank of gorgeous color. 
Not rainbow hues. 

But the bright glory of the Autumn clouds 
In every varied leaf. 
And when the sharp winds blow, 
They drop upon the earth, and 
Make a varied carpet, no man may copy ; 
He can but wonder at the Maker. 
These leaves kissed by the sun and frost 
Turn from decay into a thing of beauty, 
Like mortal into immortality. 



[11] 



iceo^o^o&:^:i^c^o^o^o^o^c^c^^ 



A September Sunset 




HUSH o'er all the earth, 
Alone you stand upon the shore, 
The setting sun makes all the Western heavens, 
A mass of blazing light. 



From the far horizon 

Back to the shining sand along the shore. 

The gently rolling sea shows only molten gold. 

And through yon rifted cloud where light appears. 

It leads you on to gaze through space. 

Into the golden gates of paradise. 

A million times in all the ages past, 

This wondrous spectacle has been displayed in heaven 

That man may bow before the great Creator. 

Were this to-day the only time 

This glory had been manifest. 

All people on Earth would grovel in the dust. 

Proclaiming "God is great." 



[12] 



Keo^o^ox&:&xosox^osi:&:&:!^^^ 



A SEPTEMBER SUNSET— Continued 

But we are so familiar grown 

With all things seen in Heaven and Earth, 

Our minds are blinded to the wonder of it all, 

The smallest wayside flower shows 

The Creator's handiwork and his continued care. 

The mighty mountains make us stand in awe, 

At that tremendous power that threw the giant hills 

Up from the seething mass of the convulsing earth. 

But in this golden sunset now we see our God 

Display the beauties of the world he made, 

Low let us bow before such loveliness, 

And all proclaim that "God is Love." 



[13] 



^^o^o^:s:^oijos:eceo^c0:^^^ 




Raindrops 

MILLION raindrops gathered together 
With clouds and wind made stormy weather. 
The raindrops said: "We'll drop from the sky, 
To earth we'll fall and there will try 

To help the grass grow and the flowers." 

The sunshine came with gentle showers ; 

Brought forth the flowers with fragrant bloom ; 

Drove off the storm — dispelled the gloom. 

These gentle raindrops on kindness bent, 

To be of much service were very intent, 

They sprinkled the trees, they fell on the ground; 

In silence brought blessings, they made not a sound. 

Far up on the hillside they started the springs, 

Where maiden hair ferns and beautiful things 

That delight our hearts grow by moss covered trees. 

Our minds are uplifted by such thoughts as these. 

From the spring on the hill the raindrops ran, 
They said : "We are bound to do what we can." 
They all got together and started a brook. 
Fell over the stones by hook and by crook; 



[14] 



RAINDROPS— Continued 

They gathered much force as they all ran along. 
The birds in the tree tops, they warbled a song; 
'Twas a song of contentment, and in joyful lays 
Unto God the Creator they gave all the praise. 

Under bright sunshine the brook through the fields, 
Many new pleasures abundantly yields. 
The children from school are wandering here. 
Their lessons are over, they have nothing to fear. 
Their tasks are now ended for this summer's day, 
There is now time for frolic and innocent play. 

Boys roll up their trousers and pull off their shoes. 
What one can not think of, the other one does. 
The girls are as anxious to get in the water, 
As any young mermaid, or old Neptune's daughter. 

They pull the pond lilies and make such a splash. 

That the frogs all get frightened, and make off with a dash, 

All nature is happy, it's plain to be seen ; 

The trees are all painted a bright living green. 

The children are noisy with many a shout. 
Their dog got in mischief while running about ; 
He soon was discovered by hot bumble bees, 
He did not stop running to scratch at the fleas, 
But jumped in the pool with many a wail. 
As bumble bees stung from his head to his tail. 

One boy (quite a genius) he made a toy boat. 
The girls were delighted to see it would float, 



[15] 



RAINDROPS— Continued 

From the grape vine's large leaf, he then made a sail ; 

His mind was inventive, he never could fail. 

He soon cut a pole and started to fish, 

He caught speckled trout; all the children could wish. 

We'll now have a picnic right under the trees, 
No skeeters to bite us in the fresh summer breeze. 
We'll all build a fire and have glorious fun ; 
Get hungry while waiting for the fish to get done. 

The girls pick some berries. 

The boys bring some cherries. 

They all work together exceedingly well, 

Of their frolic and fun it's a pleasure to tell. 

The flowing brook enlarged became a gentle stream ; 
Upon its rippling waters, lovers came as in a dream, 
They drifted down stream in a birch bark canoe. 
That had room for one person, but scarcely for two; 
Thus brought closely together their hearts beat as one. 
"The world loves a lover" — nothing new under the sun. 

All listless dreaming must come to an end; 

The man must work, or the woman can't spend. 

The conflict is raging, brave men to the fore. 

No chance for retreat 'till the warfare is o'er: 

So the man bares his arms for the toil and the strife, 

He must fight to the end in the battle of life. 

The river gets broader, our vision shows then 
The vessels are crowded with freight and with men. 



[16] 



RAINDROPS— Continued 



Each man has a mission in life to perform, 

His must be a staunch ship to weather the storm. 



In his journey through Hfe he must meet stormy weather, 
He'll get many a scratch, though he be tough as leather; 
But with an eye on the compass, firm hand on the rudder, 
He can avoid wrecks that would make a man shudder. 
Far out on the ocean his vessel can sail ; 
He can travel through hurricane, snow, wind and hail, 
With the star as his guide, his faith holding fast. 
His ship will arrive in the haven at last. 



A Mountain Brook 



^T^ E sit beside the mountain brook to listen to its 
ill song, 
Vmx It's far away from haunts of men; here little 

brooks belong; 
No sound of discord here is heard, but the water gently 

flows 
Over the stones and mosses, making music as it goes. 

See where the fall is greatest, the water turning white, 
Drops straight into the depths below and soon is out of sight. 
Completely hid by bushes that there make shadows deep, 
Where the water in the darkness would seem to be asleep. 

The quiet of the water where the pools are dark and clear, 
Will gently sooth your spirit; dispel all thoughts of fear. 
And ripples chasing ripples like fairies there at play. 
Will charm you with their music through all the summer 
day. 

Where you see the shallow water, it rushes fast along, 
Makes quicker then the music, but does not change the song, 
This song is one of gladness, and praise to the Creator, 
It leads your thoughts from Earth to God, your gracious 
benefactor. 



Keo^o^cecs:&:ei:B:eo^o^:!^o^:^^ 



A MOUNTAIN BROOK— Continued 

The smell of woods and moss and fern beside this running 

brook 
Gives you a sense of rest fulness ; you now are glad you took 
The path up from the meadows to this beautiful ravine, 
Where all nature is so peaceful, so happy and serene. 

Your ear is keen to catch the sound of insects on the wing, 

The very air is musical: there is joy in everything. 

The sunlight flickering through the leaves the light and 

shade discloses; 
You lie upon a bed of moss, as soft as bed of roses. 

You hear the whisper of the wind far up among the trees, 
Can angel voices be more sweet than song of summer breeze? 
This world is very beautiful; if we had eyes to see 
One half of all its loveliness, how happy we would be. 

A frisky squirrel in the tree knows he is free from harm, 
Chats to his mate on yonder limb ; his call gives no alarm. 
A shy and gentle woodthrush comes full into your view, 
Sings now a soft melodious note ; perhaps it's meant for you. 



To drive away all discontent — a brook with tumbling water. 
Will make you glad, and cheer your heart, like childhood's 
joyous laughter. 



Musings 



^-|p^ HEN turning in my office chair, I see a picture on 

ill *^^ ^^^^ 

vj^ That takes my thoughts to woodlands; to the 

country in the Fall; 

Meandering through the meadow I see a gentle stream, 

With sloping overhanging trees; can you tell me, do they 

mean 
To kiss the water in caress as fondly they draw near 
To cast their shadows, drop their leaves on this a watery 

bier? 

So restful seems the winding path under those noble trees. 
It makes me long to lie beneath and there to take my ease. 
The sunlight flickers through the trees down on this well 

worn path 
With varying shadows. The Scriptures say to him that hath 
More shall be given ; thus if you feel in this content, 
Your heart will fill with joy; joy running over shall be sent 
To fill your cup; and you will know what Nature brings 
To him who in his love for Nature, loves all things. 



[20] 




WHEN TURNING IN MY OFFICE CHAIR I SEE A PICTURE ON THE WALL 
See page 20 



MUSINGS— Continued 

The ripening leaves are turning now to golden brown ; 
A little stir of air — and they come dropping gently down 
To make a varied carpet for the Mother Earth, 
And in due time again the Spring shall bring new birth 
To gladden every heart. Thus do the years go by 
And bring content — the love of Nature is the reason why. 

Reflected on the water still more beauties you behold ; 
Of all the charms in Nature, not one half is ever told. 
This gentle stream reflects the trees, the sunshine and the 

sky; 
But these beauties are not noticed by every passer-by. 
Be very thankful if to you this sight is ever given. 
In charms of nature you can see the very gates of heaven. 

We hear a whistle and a snatch of songs, 

Surely that whistle to a boy belongs, 

And now a vision comes before your sight, 

There's no mistake, it is the boy all right. 

Upon his head a hat with broken brim, 

Much worn — this makes no difference to him. 



His thoughts are not upon what clothes he'll wear. 

He has in mind some catfish he will snare. 

An older chum has taught him, just how to make a noose 

To catch the fish — this knowledge gained, he's now about 

to use. 
He whistles, for he knows he'll have success, 
He'll not go home without a good sized mess. 



KSO^O^O^XIXOdXC&X^XOSO^^ 



MUSINGS—Continued 

His sleeves rolled up, on his arms you see the tan; 

His shirt's unbuttoned at the neck, like his father's hired 

man. 
As he comes near, upon his face you see a happy smile, 
Content with life's the reason — it surely is worth while. 
A healthy boy with healthy mind, you see before your eyes. 
He is as good in thought and deed as angels in the skies. 



Now is your time for pleasure ; pleasure without any alloy, 
For you now have an invitation to follow this happy boy. 
He knows a shady nook where the fish are surely found. 
Don't miss his invitation, go lie upon the ground 
And watch young Izaak Walton as he begins to fish ; 
You'll have your share of happiness, as much as you could 

wish. 
When you see another happy, this gives to you most joy; 
And you'll be more contented since you have seen this boy. 




Easter Xhoughts 

T Easter tide the lilies bloom, 
At Easter tide Christ left the tomb; 
So let our thoughts above earth rise, 
To better things above the skies. 

The moon is at the full right now, 
With grateful hearts low let us bow 
Before our God the great Creator, 
Our faithful friend, our benefactor. 

The heavens declare His glory now, 
The bright stars glisten like the snow ; 
So let our thoughts be pure and white; 
We can hide nothing from God's sight. 

It is His will that we should be 
Fitted to live eternally, 
In that abode where is no sin; 
We must be so, to live with Him. 

So let us strive from day to day, 

So let us work, so let us pray, 

That all our thoughts be made more pure, 

For only God-like thoughts endure. 

The things that are frivolous, now forsake. 

Of things that are heavenly now partake ; 

Have earnest desire for that which is high. 

Take your thoughts from the earth, look up towards the sky. 



Creed 

^^Ito^ HE Master, when upon the earth, condemned the 
M ^j Pharisee, 

^^^/ Who stood the highest in the church in his com- 
munity, 
And claimed that he lived strictly according to the creed. 
But the Master told him plainly, though born of Abram's 

seed. 
There was no heaven within his reach, unless he changed 

his way, 
For heaven is in the heart of man and heaven is here to-day. 
No need to wait for future years in some spirit land of light. 
The Kingdom is within you, not seen by mortal sight. 

Some men by nature reverent, would gladly worship God, 
But can not follow in the path that their forefathers trod, 
Their faith does not reveal to them what the future has 

in store. 
But day by day they do their best, God does not ask for 

more. 
It is not what we promise that brings to us reward. 
It's what we do, not what we say, that counts before the 

Lord. 
Faith without works will never help to raise a fallen man, 
To-day you have a chance to help; so do it if you can. 



[24] 



CREED— Continued 

Don't spend your time in thinking about heaven's golden 

street, 
But lend a hand of helpfulness to every man you meet. 
If you will do to others as you would have them do to you, 
This doing good to others is the best thing you can do. 
Dismiss then all your anxious doubts about some ancient 

creed. 
This rule of loving kindness is the only guide you need. 
You may not go inside a church or ever hear the bell. 
You will daily live in heaven and never go to hell. 



[251 



Temptation 



DAM driven from the garden, was made a better 
man, 
For work was better for him; dispute it, if you 
can. 
You know when he was loafing, he ate forbidden fruit. 
He was told to leave the garden, this order didn't suit; 




But it was the best thing for him, when he was made to toil. 
To trim up all the fruit trees and cultivate the soil. 
His wife was working with him, soon they were raising Cain, 
Eve laid this all on Adam, there was no one else to blame. 

When Adam ate forbidden fruit, he blamed it all on Eve, 
But Eve's excuse was ready, " 'Twas the Serpent did de- 
ceive," 
And ever since that garden scrap, so many years ago. 
Men blame their sins on women ; it's not always right, you 
know. 



For women now have sins enough, that are their very own ; 
If you'd like to have some proof of this, just look around the 
town. 



TEMPTATION— Continued 

You will not find them eating fruit, you'll find them drink- 
ing wine, 
And getting men in trouble; they do it all the time. 

But men do often so beguile and lead a girl astray, 

That she will fail to follow the straight and narrow way. 

Thus men and women both you see, tempt others to go 

wrong. 
They make trouble for each other, they'd do well to live 

alone. 

To this there are exceptions, some men and women give 
A helping hand to every one, to show them how to live. 
Such are a blessing everywhere, in poverty or wealth, 
God grant that these be multiplied and kept in perfect 
health. 



To improve the generations, that will follow year by year ; 
These need not hunt for paradise, they'll find that Heaven 

is here. 
No man will tempt a woman, nor woman tempt a man, 
But everyone on earth will do the very best he can. 



Contentment 

OUR wants are very many, but our needs are very 
few, 
We do not need the luxuries, the simple things 
will do, 
To make our lives quite happy; if with these we are con- 
tent. 
Our lives will be all sunshine; from life's shadows we're 
exempt. 

The eagle pushes from the nest her young, to make them fly, 
This is a good example for either you or I. 
'Tis said that dire "necessity is the mother of invention," 
Necessity thus makes you work, at least that's the intention. 



The world is always waiting for great things to be done. 
Each man is called to do his part, there's work for every one. 
A few must be the leaders, the others follow on. 
To get the work accomplished we must have both brains and 
brawn. 



CONTENTMENT— Continued 

One man may build a city church that has a lofty dome, 
But he may be very wretched; unhappy in his home. 
The man that's digging in a ditch may have a loving heart, 
Be careful of his family, and thus do well his part. 

When this workman's day is over, his mind is well content. 
For he counts no time as wasted, his hours have been well 

spent. 
He has faithful been in every thing that came to him to do. 
His work has brought approval, you'll always find it so. 

A man may never wealthy be, but poverty's no crime, 
The man who is contented will be happy all the time. 
Great wealth ne'er yet brought happiness to any living man, 
Content alone brings happiness, it's the only thing that can. 



[29] 



Drifting 




OU sit upon the river's bank, see driftwood in the 
stream, 
The flotsam and the jetsam of life's uncertain 
dream ; 
If you sit idly in your boat when the rapids are below, 
You will surely meet disaster unless you take the oars and 
row. 



You need not work for failure, youVe only got to drift; 
Failure will be your portion, the result is sure and swift. 
If the point that you are after is further up the stream, 
You must work against the current; you cannot drift and 
dream. 

If we ascend a mountain, we have surely got to climb. 
If we fight against temptation, we can make our lives sub- 
lime. 
If you accomplish anything, you've surely got to work, 
This is the rule of nature; so don't attempt to shirk. 



[30] 



DRIFTING—Continued 

"Work out your own salvation" is what the Scriptures teach, 
You must fight against the evil if you would Heaven reach, 
And Heaven will be within you, it's always in the mind 
Of those who strive to do the good — seek and you'll always 
find. 



Thus Heaven you see is not a place to look for in the future, 
If in your heart youVe loving thoughts, Heaven's in your 
very nature. 



^o^odxos:ei:B:B:eo^cec^o^:8^^^ 



Xke Ocean 

M^^^HOU first of all creation God made manifest; 
fl ^j From clouds and darkness God brought forth the 
^^^/ sea. 

Before the light had dawned God thought it best 
The mighty Ocean to create; forever thus to be. 

God sent the light and then the clouds did rise 
Up from this mighty water; thus they did separate. 
Not yet had any sun appeared or any sign of skies ; 
Thousands of years had passed — no record of the date. 

The human mind can not conceive the ages passed 
In forming this great world from chaos to perfection. 
We know the time but day by day ; God's time is vast, 
His mills grind slowly; His work bears his own inspection. 



And when the time had come, God made the sun appear. 
And with the turning earth came night ; this made one day. 
Again the ages passed ; then from the depths the earth drew 

near 
And formed in time a continent — before God's eye it lay. 



THE OCEAN— Continued 

The land is but a small part of this most wondrous sphere : 
The greater part is water — this is the mighty Ocean. 
Its islands are but mountain tops that do appear 
From out such depths that we are lost in contemplation. 

From out this mighty water God brought the whales, 
These monstrous creatures he did bring to birth, 
Man since has built great ships with many sails; 
They ride to every port where man lives on the earth. 

But when the fearful storms arise how many ships are lost, 
Though the captain and his sailors are steadfast at their 

post. 
The work of man is feeble when it meets the dreadful wave, 
And many thousands of stout hearts have found a watery 

grave. 

How weak is man's creation beside the mighty billow. 
That lifts great ships as easily as you would lift a pillow. 
And when the waves in thunder tones strike on the rocky 

shore, 
It's like a mighty battle when you hear the cannon roar. 

How lovely when the day is warm to lie upon the beach 
And gaze out on the Ocean as far as eye can reach. 
You hear the sea gulls calling ; your thoughts go far away. 
The sea shows naught of peril on this bright summer's day. 



[33] 



THE OCEAN—Continued 

But if you gQt far out to sea, not any land in sight, 
With darkness over all the deep, no moon to give you light, 
With home and kindred far away, life seems to you most 

drear ; 
Your thoughts are very gloomy, and your mind is full of 

fear. 

Then with the morning comes the sun, and everything looks 

bright, 
Yet God was in the darkness just the same as in the light. 
The God that made the Ocean is not limited in power, 
He guides the Earth around the Sun; He watches every 

hour. 



This ever changing sea is ceaselessly in motion, 

God's work is not completed — from your mind dismiss the 

notion 
That Nature's laws are left alone to carry out their will ; 
God's power is ever manifest; His hand is guiding still. 




YOU WILL NOTICE THE FIREPLACE, BUILT OF MOSS-COVEREP STONES 
See page 39 



Tke Tkousand Islands 

^^^fcfc^O be always compelled to live in the City, 
# l\ When one longs to be free is surely a pity. 
^^^^ You can take a fast train; ride but one single 

night, 
Arriving at Clayton in the dawn's early light. 

What a change you behold; as you open your eyes, 
The St. Lawrence River in majesty lies. 
The water that flows from the great inland seas. 
Now glistens before you in the soft summer breeze. 

The City forgotten you commence now to feel, 
In a different environment, that life is more real. 
Away from those things that cause turmoil and strife. 
You can enjoy nature; lead a real simple life. 



When you calmly reflect on the life lived in towns, 
Where women think mostly of their latest new gowns. 
Where men driven frantic by fierce competition, 
Are forced to the wall — die in sheer desperation, 



^03:B:eo^ox&xceoso^o^ixc&:8^^ 



THE THOUSAND ISLANDS— Continued 

You wonder why, when God's country is here, 
Men still spend their lives for just "skittles and beer." 
Pomp, show and preferment must all pass away, 
But the life that is simple will last many a day. 

With toil and anxiety now put aside, 
You look over the River that here opens wide. 
See islands, that seem as if dropped from the skies. 
To make this fair scene a complete paradise. 

In this wonderful River the water is clear. 
You can drink where you will, it is better than beer. 
We get on the steamboat our journey to take, 
Down the River we'll go — not up to the lake. 

Now 'mid beautiful islands the scenes we'll enjoy. 
All care laid aside you'll feel like a boy. 
Of the "Thousand Islands," we've heard many a song; 
Surely tales of enchantment to this place belong. 

On one of the islands you see a beautiful home, 
Where some man in splendor is living alone. 
With house boat and steam yacht to give him his pleasure. 
To keep up the pace he can have little leisure. 

On some little islands all shaded by trees. 
You can find other people are taking their ease. 
Enjoying the sunshine, the breeze and all things; 
Though not burdened with wealth, they are happy as Kings. 



[36] 



THE THOUSAND ISLANDS—Continued 

We would rather take our outing at Alexandria Bay, 
Than in that far off country, on "the road to Mandalay." 
Here on this blessed River, you have more pleasure in a 

boat, 
Than in any other place on earth, where pleasure craft will 

float. 

Our launch is waiting for us at Alexandria Bay; 
Without delay we get on board and quickly get away. 
We pass down by the lighthouse, and point for "Grenadier," 
Then turn to port toward "Mary's Isle"; for Canada we 
steer. 

Past many islands clothed in green down to the water's edge, 
Past others where the rocks are high, and others where 

there's sedge. 
The water is so bright and clear you see the little fish. 
Swimming among the water weeds as plain as in a dish. 

Have you ever seen the "Lost Channel," or gone through 

the "Needle's Eye?" 
Have you ever paddled a light canoe with the water rushing 

by? 
Have you rapidly passed through "Landen's Rift" 
Where the current is always exceedingly swift? 

There are a thousand places to afford you delight ; 
You can explore every day from morning till night ; 
You can always find something that is new to give pleasure ; 
On the bank of the River you recline at your leisure. 



[37] 



THE THOUSAND ISLANDS— Continued 

There is no skiff that excels the St. Lawrence boat ; 
There is no craft its equal, wherever it may float. 
It is graceful in shape as the famous wild swan, 
And the St. Lawrence oarsman has both brain and brawn. 

If you're fond of good fishing and can handle a rod, 
The St. Lawrence oarsman is keen on the job. 
Near the bank of the channel hid in the eel grass, 
He'll find you the pickerel ; sometimes the black bass. 

You fish all the morning, catch all that you need, 
With the sport you're delighted, and hungry indeed. 
The oarsman now rows into some shady place; 
When the dinner is called, you'll be first in the race. 

The fire is soon built in a stove made of stones ; 
When you taste of the fish, you'll eat all but the bones. 
You will find that your oarsman's a wonderful cook ; 
He has learned from experience, not out of a book. 

On the bank he now lays out the best of the fish; 
You dig down in the basket for a big enough dish. 
Before the fish knows it, his troubles begin; 
You don't stop to scale him, you pull off his skin. 



The pan is soon hot ; in the fat the fish fry, 
With some slices of pork, until both are quite dry. 
The big baked potatoes from hot ashes he brings, 
And the coffee he makes would be nectar for Kings. 



THE THOUSAND ISLANDS— Continued 

When the fish is well cooked to a nice golden brown, 
It beats all the food you can buy in the town. 
Your man fixes a table he has stowed in the boat, 
You sit down and eat, 'till you're "full as a goat." 

For all summer vacations the place we love best. 
Is on La Rue Island; it is called "Summer Rest." 
The cottage sets up on a knoll 'mid the trees, 
Where you always can find a refreshing breeze. 

All things in this cottage are simple and plain, 
If you go in there once, you will sure go again. 
It's a place that is restful by night or by day, 
All things are for use; no things for display. 

In the cool autumn days with a fire on the hearth. 
You need envy no mortal, who lives on the earth. 
As you watch the bright fire, you will not feel alone. 
You will notice the fireplace built of moss covered stone. 

You may think of the fairies as you look at the blaze; 
Hear the wind as it whispers — can you tell what it says ? 
There are all kinds of fancies that people the mind, 
As you think them all over ; keep the best that you find. 

Go out on the porch — this view none can excel, 
We are lost for expression, its beauties to tell; 
On the left a small bay, like a beautiful lake ; 
From your skiflF, you can there the white lilies take. 



[39] 



THE THOUSAND ISLANDS— Continued 

The islands are covered with pine, maple and birch; 
To walk there on Sunday is like going to church. 
All nature shows forth the wisdom of God, 
From the stars in the sky to the worm in the sod. 

Geologists tell us that in these rocks it is shown. 
That they are some of the oldest that ever were known. 
They can trace them back for some millions of years, 
That they were ground by great glaciers it plainly appears. 

If you walk over the island toward the "Lake of the Isle," 
It's not very much further than a good country mile. 
You will pass over meadows, deep valleys, high hills; 
These walks give great pleasure — will cure all your ills. 

What seems a vast wilderness, you find your way through ; 
It's so dense in some places, it's all you can do 
To climb the high hills ; but it's well worth your while ; 
From the top you see wonders for many a mile. 



You can see many islands with the River between, 
And a great many boats far out in the stream. 
There are few spots on earth, that with this place compare ; 
This fact you are sure of whenever you're there. 



Muskoka Lakes 



ON a bright day in September you can leave Mus- 
koka wharf, 
On a large and spacious steamboat that will 
take you farther north; 
Soon you come 'mid isles enchanted as you sail the shim- 
mering water, 
Sometimes see an Indian chieftain, close beside him is his 

daughter. 
In a light canoe you see them, as they paddle swiftly past. 
But you know the race is dying; Indian chiefs are getting 
scarce. 



Slowly pass through Indian River to the lock at Port 

Carlin ; 
All the natives in the village come to see the boat pass in. 
Here the guests come from the hotel; little they have to 

amuse, 
You can take a photo of them in the sunlight, if you choose. 
Next you thread a narrow passage leading into Lake Rou- 

seau. 
And you see the many landings either side, as past you go. 



^d:ecB:&:es:eo^oso^CB:e:e^^ 



MUSKOKA LAKES— Continued 

Every island has new beauties; wooded to the water edge, 
Or perhaps some wondrous cedars, growing on a rocky 

ledge. 
On the choicest points are houses, built by those who love 

this lake, 
You will surely be delighted, if you will this journey take. 
If the Captain sees a signal, he will stop at any dock. 
Take on passengers or luggage — leave some letters, like 

as not. 

You continue on your journey, beauties new on every side. 
Hotel Windermere is sighted, you'll be pleased here to 

abide ; 
But we do not leave the steamboat, we will sail still further 

on, 
To the hotel called the "Royal"; this our hearts are set 

upon. 
Here you find the view entrancing — play golf or tennis, if 

you please. 
Or you join the lazy pilgrims who will always take their 

ease. 

Soon you take a day's excursion — up Lake Joseph you 
will go. 

In and out among the islands; here the steamboat must 
go slow. 

Through the narrows at Port Sanfield, you must have them 
draw the bridge. 

Here is where the main road passes, just along this nar- 
row ridge. 



MUSKOKA LAKES— Continued 

In Lake Joseph many islands are like emeralds, living 

green; 
Now your mind is quite decided: this the finest you have 

seen. 

Many cottages are hidden in the shadows of the trees, 
Many happy homes where children can enjoy the sum- 
mer breeze. 
Skiffs and launches very often help to make a pleasant 

view, 
And swift motor boats are speeding; or you see a light 

canoe. 
Now and then you see a windmill pumping water to a tank 
That is hidden in the foliage growing high up on the bank. 

Then you see a man and maiden in a canoe painted red, 
Maiden's cheeks are like two roses — wonder what the man 

has said; 
Then you see an Indian fishing, he will likely catch a trout, 
That is how he makes a living, and he knows what he's 

about. 

You arrive up at Port Cockburn, just about the hour of 

noon. 
When you hear the call for dinner, you conclude it's none 

too soon; 
In the cabin on the steamboat, they will serve you food 

to eat. 
And when you have fully feasted, you proclaim, "It can't 

be beat." 



43] 



^odxos:isxi:BXO&xod:8:B:^^ 



MUSKOKA LAKES— Continued 

Now return on journey southward, you will get a new 

surprise, 
These same islands when returning show new beauties to 

your eyes. 
Here you have a panorama; and you wonder as you view 
All the beauties of Lake Joseph being now disclosed to you. 

You may visit famed Killamey, you may go to foreign 

shore ; 
You will find no other region that can ever please you more 
Than the great Muskoka country, where the Indians used 

to roam; 
And to see a lovely landscape, you'll not need go far from 

home. 



[44] 



^Bxoscsxosod:^:^:!^:^:^:)^^ 



Tke "'Round Table ' 

At tLe Mcrckants Club, New York 

^^^^HE Merchants Qub was founded in Eighteen 

M ^j Seventy One, 

^^^^r Has always been successful since the day it was 

begun. 
Here all the famous merchants are proud to be enrolled, 
Their names are known around the world where merchan- 
dise is sold. 



They come here for their luncheon, then sit a while and 

chatj 
Some members bring a friend to dine, you're not surprised 

at that, 
For friendships are cemented where food is good to eat, 
And here the food is excellent; in fact it "can't be beat." 

Here some friends got together; selected the "Round 

Table" 
And now they meet for luncheon whenever fhey are able. 
For many years this club-room has been a choice resort. 
Where members eat their luncheon and also have some 

sport. 



'THE ROUND TABLE"~Continued 



You will not find King Arthur; no, not a single Knight; 
The man that is pretentious had best keep out of sight, 
But many sitting at the board are men of sterling worth 
And far above some others who may claim "Noble birth." 

This is no place for business ; you leave your cares behind, 
Forget about your troubles, and that "Dem'd horrid grind." 
The members 'round this table, talk of finance and war, 
Of all news in the present and all that's gone before. 

They all discuss without reserve affairs of every nation, 
They criticize the politics of men in every station. 
Each has his own opinion on sport and work and men. 
Some would vote for Woodrow Wilson, if he should run 
again. 

There are others who acknowledge that the women ought 

to vote. 
And others look upon it as a rather ancient joke. 
If one has heard a story, he tells it here the first. 
And some are very good ones; some are the very worst. 

Don't ever risk an anecdote that has been heard before. 
For if you do, at once you'll start a very merry war. 
They have no use for "chestnuts", so you must have a care 
That what you tell is always new ; it must be rich and rare. 

For none of them will hesitate at once to call you down. 
You must accept this with a smile, and never with a frown 
These are the men who congregate as often as they're able, 
Enjoy the friendly fellowship each day at the "Round 
Table." 



[46] 




HE HAS FAITH IN HIS CRAFT, HAS ALSO THE 
See page 49 



c 



Tke "''Rouncl Tatle' Cruise 

HERE is one of our friends was an ambitious boy, 
He would rig up a boat when he wanted a toy ; 
And when up to manhood he fully arrived, 
His sport was in yachts, and many he tried. 



And now in his prime, it might have been sooner, 
He is the proud owner of a beautiful schooner.* 
He is not content to alone enjoy pleasure. 
He gives to his friends and that in good measure. 

He sought the "Round Table" to give them some sport, 
This shows he's a man of a very good sort. 
With "Now my good fellows what do you all say, 
We will go for a sail on the eleventh of May." 

At once we replied, "It will give us great pleasure, 
A breath of salt air we would reckon a treasure." 
And every live man at the famous "Round Table" 
Said, "We'll all be on hand as sure as we're able." 

♦The "Dervish." 



i:<^OK 



THE "ROUND TABLE" CRUISE— Continued 



And when the time came we were there on the spot, 
Some sailors, some lubbers, all met on the dock. 
And there on the wharf every son of a gun. 
Was ready to sail from Port Washington. 

There out in the bay as fair as a swan 

Was a craft, fine as ever you laid eyes upon. 

Each man was delighted when he stepped on the deck. 

Felt that life was worth living; and some said "By heck 

What's the use of our working, the thing is absurd, 
For the man that owns this boat is surely a Bird* 
He knows when to work, and when to take leisure, 
And to get out of life a great deal of pleasure." 

At the word of command up goes the white sail; 
This white swan's a beauty from the head to the tail. 
As she swings to the wind, the sails catch the breeze. 
And she gracefully bends like the limbs on the trees. 

She looked fair at anchor, but wonderful now 

As she springs into life and throws spray from the bow. 

Is there any enjoyment that is equal to this? 

It gives health, it gives pleasure ; it is unalloyed bliss. 

The owner of this yacht is known as a Bird; 
Can tell a good story as ever you heard. 
He's no fresh water sailor, but loves the salt sea ; 
If the wind blows a gale, no coward is he. 

* Commodore John W. Bird. 



[48] 




WE ARE NOT SHORT OF SAILORS 
See page 49 



THE "ROUND TABLE" CRUISE— Continued 

He has faith in his craft, has also the skill 
To sail this big yacht wherever he will ; 
And many a time when the sea's in a rage, 
He feels sure he is safe, as a Bird in a cage. 

There goes one of his guests who walks like a Lord, 
You can be very certain he never drew sword. 
He may be as proud as the old King Belshazzar, 
But he now has to sleep near the roof of the Plaza. 

We have Nobles among us; there's Commodore Page; 
We take off our hats on account of his age. 
If the skipper gets drunk, you can put Page at the wheel; 
He'll take the yacht into port like a dog at your heel. 

We are not short of sailors ; there's Charlie M. Brooks; 
He's sailed many a boat into all kinds of nooks. 
He's as fond of the sea as a dog is of water. 
In fact he's half married to old Neptune's daughter. 

Then there's Pirie ; the Scotchman ; whenever he please, 
He takes a long journey far over the seas; 
He knows a rope's end from an old marlin spike. 
He can handle a yacht, and he does it just right. 

He can ride a fine horse, he can shoot a good gun ; 
He is keen on all sports ; perhaps better at some ; 
For he went to East Africa hunting big game; 
From a rhinoceros hide he gave each friend a cane. 



[49] 



THE "ROUND TABLE" CRUISE— Continued 

There's a man from Belhaven, his friends call him "Quack," 
And everyone loves him in spite of all that; 
No hair on his head, but inside full of wit ; 
Though sometimes abused, doesn't mind it a bit. 

His use of the English is very precise ; 

He sometimes corrects you in a way that's not nice. 

His little shortcomings we will have to forgive; 

This will make no difference to him, as sure as you live. 

Fred Haight makes lots of money while Susie's sewing 

shirts ; 
They put them on the soldiers to cover up their hurts ; 
His friend is Winston Churchill, of very great renown; 
His son is after contracts in famous London town ; 
And he gets what he is after; there is no doubt of that; 
And he's gathering in the coin, enough to fill your hat. 

Not one of the guests that are out on this cruise, 

So far lose their heads as to get full of booze ; 

The good things of life they take and admire, 

But to make fools of themselves, they have no desire. 

Every man in the party is ready for fun. 
Can each take a joke, and laugh when it's done. 
This is one of the reasons they all have been able 
To enjoy every day when at the "Round Table." 
For life has no pleasure for the man "out of sorts," 
There is no fun for him whatever the sports. 



[SO] 



THE "ROUND TABLE" CRUISE— Continued 

When we were but boys in a twenty- foot "cat," 

We have tackled the storm — ^got wet as a rat, 

When her bow struck the waves, she put her nose under 

And dove like a duck, but she came up, by thunder ! 

And shook off the waves and she proved to us then 
What's good sport for boys is good sport for men. 
And strong men have health, good things to enjoy, 
If they follow the sports that give health to the boy. 




To Cominociore Jokn W. Bird 

ManLasset YacLt Glut, L. I. 

S one of your guests from the famous "Round 
Table" 

I hasten to thank you as soon as I'm able. 

That day on the "Dervish" was glorious sport. 
The weather conditions of the very best sort. 
Each hour was a pleasure from morning 'till night, 
All care was forgotten, our hearts all made light; 
This kind of pleasure makes men feel like boys, 
A staunch schooner yacht is the finest of toys, 
It was one of the best days the Lord ever made, 
After making this statement, what more can be said ? 

M. W. F. 



[51] 



Xne ''*' Round Xable Dinner 

^^^i^HEY say that Fred Haight's made a barrel of 

■ ^ j money; 

^^1^/ He's a bright busy bee that knows how to make 

honey. 
He sent his son Sherman far over the water; 
He had in his stateroom, some other man's daughter. 
Of this I am sure, you can bet on your life, 
That other man's daughter was Sherman's own wife. 



On Monroe Place, Brooklyn, aristocrats live; 

You can't stay there a week; if you've no money to give. 

Haight passes the plate in a church run by Mellish; 

Up and down the broad aisle, he walks with a relish. 

Fred Haight with a smile that is sweeter than honey; 

Says, "Now, you old lobsters, just give us your money." 

Fred collected a fortune for the Y. W. C. A., 

So the girls sleep in beds, instead of on hay. 

They are taught to be good — that the way to shun evil, 

Is to pick up their skirts, and run like the devil. 



THE "ROUND TABLE" DINNER— Continued 

Friends af the "Round Table" got word long before, 

To dine at his house on March twenty- four; 

They all had in mind how Page started the race, 

And each one was ready to keep up the pace. 

The guests all prepared to be very sedate ; 

They were somewhat in awe of the good Mrs. Haight. 

With wide open arms our host at the door, 

Was ready to welcome the rich and the poor. 

Our things were removed, we were then ushered in; 

Soon offered a cocktail of vermouth and gin. 



To the left is the salon, and hung on the wall, 
Is a painting of Eve, before, not after, her fall. 
It is very certain she was not a prude — 
She was not a bit bashful; she stood in the nude. 
Then one of the ladies — she must be a vixen. 
Suggested the model was a certain Miss Dixon. 
Then every one noticed her figure of grace; 
That she also resembled the beautiful face. 

The floors were all covered with fine Chinese rugs; 
The book-case for ornament, had old Chinese jugs. 
The home is most spacious, there were long rows of books ; 
The hostess most gracious, you could tell by her looks. 

We all took our partners to the big Dining Room ; 
Each man was so hungry, he was called none too soon. 
We looked at the flowers, the napkins, the plate; 
We were quite contented we had not missed the date. 
It was March twenty- four that we had in mind, 



[S3] 




y:i&:i^o^i:&:ei:0:8:isi:^^ 



THE "ROUND TABLE" DINNER—Continued 



We could smell a good dinner, if we had been blind. 
The oysters, the olives, the nuts and the sherry; 
The fish, squab, cucumbers and red currant jelly; 
But when we had got to the cheese and the salad, 
Page insisted that George now sing us a ballad. 

At the head of the table, sat genial Fred Haight; 
The next, Mrs. Page, on his right, kept him straight. 
Then followed the man who is known as "Highbrow," 
How this name ever caught him, we can'f tell you now. 
His name should be blazoned in the great Hall of Fame; 
He has played very fair since he's been in the game. 
It has been truly stated, he started in late — 

Through no fault of his — He's a victim of fate. 
He made three blades of grass grow, where none grew be- 
fore. 
And when friends anxiously ask, "Will there be any more ?" 
He answers the riddle — "Well, I've got the call; 
But you can't get a cigar every time you play ball." 

The charming Mrs. Chapman was just on his right. 

But the way he behaved was a marvelous sight. 

He put up his napkin to shield his bald head. 

When his mischievous neighbors threw olives and bread. 

He had on a shirt that was spotlessly white; 

He had bought it on purpose for this very night. 

The champagne was flowing; this old vintage wine, 
Made all round the board feel exceedingly fine. 
That very abstemious good Charlie Brooks, 



^odxoso^o^o^o^o^o^o^o^o^cec^^ 



THE "ROUND TABLE" DINNER— Continued 

Was getting hilarious — you could tell by his looks. 
Mrs. F. — wore her diamonds, to cut a big swell; 
She said she felt badly, but she looked very well. 
"If you eat oysters with wine," the Doctor had said, 
"I won't be surprised if you get sick in bed." 

The next, is a Scotchman of dry goods renown; 

He comes from Chicago — it's a very good town; 

His father before him, was a merchant of fame — 

No man could beat him in a fair business game, 

But the son we best love, we all call him Sam; 

He is careful in speech — does not ever say "damn." 

He's exceedingly careful, not only in speech. 

He won't let a dollar get out of his reach. 

He's got a big heart — if you were in trouble. 

Some other might help you — ^but he'd give you double. 

Rough house was expected; they knew sure as fate. 
But not a sign was discovered in good Mrs. Haight. 
Her mind might be troubled, but her face wore a smile ; 
Her dinner gown showed us an "up-to-date" style. 



There were bright speeches often by Commodore Page; 
He feels young as ever — he is wise as a sage. 
He has sailed up the Sound — he has been out to sea ; 
Knows a jib from a mainsail, you may believe me. 
Mrs. Brooks at his side, enjoyed the good dinner — 
She's a bright little lady, sure as I am a sinner. 



THE "ROUND TABLE" DINNER— Continued 

Mr. F. writes some prose; sometimes he writes verse. 
His friends now all tell him, this last is the worst. 
Mrs. Q. has decided she must have recreation — 
Has told Mr. Q. she will fake a vacation. 
The "Round Table" insisted it be properly done; 
They appointed J. H. "a committee of one." 
Mrs. Q. said to George ; "I'll not trouble you — 
I will stroll on the boardwalk with J. H. W." 

The ladies, God bless them, got up from the table; 
The men filled with wine made continuous babble. 
They did not sing songs, but they made such a noise, 
When the ladies were gone, they acted like boys. 
There were three of them standing, when two of them fell ; 
A gilt chair was broken ; this did not look well. 
Our generous host said, "Now what does it matter," 
But perhaps on the inside, he was "mad as a hafter." 

At the church next door, they were praying for sinners; 
They had those in mind, who drank wine at their dinners. 
In the colored glass windows, you could see by the paint, 
They worshiped a woman, but she was a saint. 



Our host bade us welcome — He now bade us speed — 
Now the dinner was over, he was glad indeed. 
We had broken his chair; had drunk up his wine — 
The guests all enjoyed it — they felt very fine. 
"A successful dinner," is what every one said, 
Fred Haight's a good fellow, he can now go to bed. 



i3SOd:i^p^osc^o^ceo^o^cB:0:s^^ 



^Vkile It Snoivs 

OR exceptional display of ladies* fine hose, 
The best exhibition is now while it snows, 
Though the show may continue *til the very next 
rain, 
After that for a while you'll not see it again. 



fi 



There is quite a bunch, called the "Rubber neck" crowd; 
If you're one of the lot, you need not be proud. 
They hang 'round the corner of Twenty-third street. 
On the search for some damsel they hope there to meet. 

The wind from the "Flatiron" sweeps down to the ground ; 
On this special spot the bunch may be found. 
The ladies are careful to avoid snow and dirt; 
Each one for this reason lifts high up her skirt. 

If some of the ladies see that men much admire, 
It is very strange, but they lift their skirts higher. 
This special exhibit creates quite a sensation; 
To every live man this is certain temptation. 

His only escape is to turn right around, 

'Tend to some other business, his eyes on the ground; 

And attend to that wholly, not do it by half ; 

For he may get astray looking after a calf. 



[57] 



^:eoxeoso^i:eod:i5CB:^od:^^ 




Country Life 

MONG some of our friends there are men of 
renown, 
That prove they are wise, for they live out of 
town; 
From the hills in Connecticut they get a fine view. 
The choice spots are picked out by only a few, 

Who have love for the country and enjoy country life. 
Away from the noise and bustle and strife. 
Where the birds in the morning break forth into song, 
Surely this is the place where the wise men belong. 

They lay aside business, take their share of life's pleasure. 
Do just as they please ; take things at their leisure. 
When up in the country, they live at their ease ; 
They plant in their garden both onions and peas. 

Make their own apple cider, eat their own "apple sass," 
And if they feel like it, lie down on the grass, 
Right under the shadow of their own cherry trees. 
They watch the red robin, or their own honey bees. 



[58] 



COUNTRY LIFE— Continued 

They motor about and see all of the sights, 
When out on the road they stand up for tlieir rights. 
Will not take the dust from some little "Ford," 
But speed beyond limit when on a straight road. 

When they want recreation, it's golf that they play; 
When they make a bad drive — my! what do they say? 
They retreat to the clubhouse, perhaps take "a smile," 
For the walk round the links is many a mile. 

For those who love yachting, no place can be found 
That will give so much pleasure as Long Island Sound. 
And if you love fishing, you can quickly dig bait, 
And you know you'll catch something, as surely as fate. 

You fish for striped bass, if you're real fond of sport. 
For this is a fish of the very best sort. 
There are black fish and snappers, and big, slimy eels — 
When the fisherman skins them you know how it feels, 
For you have been skinned by your friends in Wall Street, 
And Brokers as skinners, you know, can't be beat. 

There is one of our friends who is now getting old. 
He can't catch a fish, but he can catch a cold ; 
If the water is rough, he says, "Pull for the shore, 
I've had more than enough, don't want any more." 

But others enjoy every sport to the limit. 
Just give them a chance, they won't lose a minute ; 
Give them rod or a gun, they are off like a shot, 
Wherever there's sport they are there on the spot. 



[59] 



Waiting 

IS there anything known that stirs up more strife, 
To an impatient man when he waits for his wife, 
Than the petty excuses for incessant delay, 
That require at least forty-eight hours to the day ? 

If she promises surely to be ready at eight, 

It will be an hour later, as surely as fate. 

He may count himself lucky if she's ready at nine, 

And politely tell her she does very fine. 

If anything else comes into his head, 

It's very much better to leave it unsaid. 

It seems very strange, though he waits by the hour. 

If she waits for fen minutes she gets very sour. 

Say never a word and don't be unkind 

To the woman who's always a little behind. 

No woman can reckon her time to the minute, 

If you think any different, you'll find nothing in it. 

Her time is not counted by hours, but by days ; 
She is never on time whatever she says. 
This is no fault of hers for she always has reason, 
For every delay at whatever season. 



[60] 



WAITING— Continued 

Her time is her own; she won't be its slave; 
So smooth down your temper, and always behave, 
As if you're delighted to wait all the night. 
Don't tell her the time; she'll think its for spite. 

You won't catch your train, but you can take the next. 
And forgive her delays on account of her sex. 
But a man that's behind will lose all his friends ; 
For a broken engagement, he can make no amends. 



[61] 



^xoso^os(:&:&:eosox^c&:eo^:^^ 



Those Women 

j^^i^ HEY chatter and gossip and talk over ills, 
Ml They have something that ails them and they 
^^^^ ought to take pills; 

They are so very nervous, that they can't sleep at night. 
The reason is simple — their shoes are too tight. 

They talk of their neighbors, sometimes they speak low, 
Sometimes in a whisper, about so and so; 
But it's seldom that they will say anything good. 
And they will never do the things that they should. 

They tell of their troubles, times over again. 
Sometimes about women, sometimes about men; 
They magnify greatly their own little virtues. 
But you will find out, they've little virtue to lose. 

There are none of your friends ever guilty of this, 
That like Judas of old they betray with a kiss; 
But there are other women that you do not know. 
Each time that they kiss, they deliver a blow. 

Their kisses are given to make you believe 
That they are your friends, but they only deceive. 
What they say to your face may be softer than oil. 
What they say when you're absent, would make your blood 
boil. 

There is much that is evil that is caused by the tongue, 
Sometimes by the old — none the less by the young. 
Women like this are of no use at home; 
If you take my advice, you will let them alone. 



[62] 




'this patio is sometimes a most delightful spot" 

See page 101 



c 



^iValciorf Roof Garden 

HE heat on the pavement is like a hot wave, 
The men who survive it must be very brave, 
To resist the depression and go on their way. 
For some snatches of sleep to prepare for the day. 



Many men do their work, some others take pleasure; 
Many poor struggle on, there are few that have leisure; 
If you have doubt of this, and would look for the proof, 
Spend an evening or two on the great Waldorf roof. 

While thousands are suffering from lack of plain food. 
And would work hard to get it, if they only could, 
A few are fed dainties, drink extra fine wine; 
These contrasts are evident most of the time. 



On the roof of the Waldorf you get a surprise. 

If it is your first visit you open your eyes. 

There are turrets and towers on the east and the west; 

Grandstand for the music — you may like this the best. 



WALDORF ROOF GARDEN— Continued 

There's the famous "Sun parlor" with fine dancing floor, 
When the music is playing they dance by the score. 
There is much decoration with bushes and flowers; 
It's filled nightly with people, unless there are showers. 

When it's hot on the pavement, the roof has a breeze, 
There you eat, or you drink, or you dance if you please. 
With a great many tables and waiters at hand. 
You can get what you ask for ; they await your command. 

Many people come here to see the display, 

Tis the place for the "spenders," there are some pretty gay. 

Not every man there has come with his wife; 

From the looks of some couples, they lead a gay life. 

This is what they are after, they like the bright light; 
They want dissipation and they seek it each night. 
It takes all kinds of people to make a great nation; 
This is not the right place to be free from temptation. 

Doubtless some spend the money, who have not the right; 
In the crowds on the roof they may feel out of sight. 
Sometimes in a crowd a scoundrel may hide; 
In this world, good and evil are found side by side. 



For many come here seeking innocent fun. 

Though they're here seeking pleasure, they're not "on a 

bum." 
In the place where they live, they are men of renown, 
But while stopping here, they are "seeing the town." 



^xod:^f:8:&xo^ixo^o^oxeox^^ 



WALDORF ROOF GARDEN— Continued 



The roof of the Waldorf has been famous for years, 
Men come here for pleasure, and not to shed tears. 
No doubt that with some life's a horrible "grind," 
And in this recreation, they can happiness find. 

The roof which now covers the whole sixteenth story. 
Was not built for fame, or either for glory, 
But to bring in the dollars to fill a fat purse; 
There are some other methods, that are very much worse. 



[65] 



New Year's Eve at tke Waldorf 



MOTLEY crowd is gathered; they come from 

far and near, 
To celebrate at midnight the coming of the year, 
They crowd the tables everywhere like children at 
a feast, 
If these be men and women, they don't show it in the least. 




Lights thrown upon the dancing floor, are yellow, red and 

blue. 
Each hotel tries to introduce some feature that is new. 
With fancy dancing by some girls who cut up fancy capers ; 
You see it mentioned afterward in all the morning papers. 



Some other things you do not see, it might be well to 

mention. 
For certain men and women strive, to get the crowd's 

attention. 
A man whose shape is like a barrel, will choose a woman 

slim: 
You'd think that they were "Siamese twins," the way she 

clings to him. 






NEW YEAR'S EVE AT THE WALDORF— Continued 

Another man thin as a rail, for partner has a woman 
Built like a whale who puffs and blows; it can't be she is 

human. 
These people think that they can dance ; they are an awful 

show, 
And make the scene ridiculous, no matter where they go. 

They all seem bent on foolishness and the making of much 

noise, 
Grey headed men and women, act just like girls and boys. 
They laugh and giggle without sense at every trifling word, 
They all behave like simpletons, their actions are absurd. 

With Fool's caps perched upon their heads, they play with 

foolish toys, 
Each pleases most the other when he makes the biggest 

noise. 
When midnight tolls departing day, each blows upon a horn, 
Thus making pandemonium, proclaim a year new born. 

They eat all sorts of dishes, drink wine much to excess, 
If you think that they are "wise ones," you've got another 

guess. 
But oh, the morning after, each one repents and says, 
"Now the New Year has begun again, I ought to mend my 

ways." 

They would forget the year that's past, all greet the coming 
year; 

Some drink to health in choicest wine, some drink in com- 
mon beer. 



[67] 



r^xeceos:eo^i:eo^o^o^i:^^^ 



NEW YEAR'S EVE AT THE WALDORF— Continued 

A year past with its sorrows, its sickness and its health; 
While many have borne poverty, a few have rolled in wealth. 

In sounds of revelry by night when men are dazed by drink, 
They forget that they have duties ; they do not stop to think 
Of those who are unfortunate, of the hungry without food ; 
A night of dissipation does no man any good. 

It may be very harmful and turn his mind to evil ; 

When a man's in this condition, he can only serve the Devil. 

Can you be true to others, or to yourself be true. 

If in this way you end the year, and start upon the new? 

When the world needs so much helping, do you lend a help- 
ing hand 

To the many who are falling everywhere throughout the 
land? 

When you think of this night's orgies, is there not a better 
way 

To spend the time in helping bring about a better day? 

Each passing year makes history for either good or ill, 
Each deed for either good or bad is subject to your will. 
The other Nations are at war, with hate each for his brother. 
May God in mercy speed the day when men will love each 
other. 



[68] 




Count Miyatovick, Sertia 

GENTLEMAN — you know there are too few 

upon the earth, 
But gentle manners should be found, in men of 
gentle birth, 
In him, when you can read his heart, you very quickly find 
Much gentleness and sterling worth and nobleness com- 
bined. 

His manner gentle not alone to those of his own nation. 
But whosoever he may meet in whatsoever station. 
His kindly heart brings to his face a very winning smile 
That makes you feel his friendship and kindness is worth 
while. 

A man of wisdom, diplomat, the world at large he knows, 
In all its changes ; he's prepared to meet its friends or foes. 
Learned in all things that doth become an honorable man, 
He represents his country's cause, the very best he can. 

That country, now downtrodden by unrelenting foe, 
Presents a picture to the world of misery and woe; 
Distress in every household, they need the help of others; 
Now is the time that men should prove that all mankind 
are brothers. 

He comes to the United States to ask a helping hand, 
From those who live in comfort in this most favored land. 
God grant he be successful in this his kindly deed. 
In helping others in distress in this their hour of need. 



[69] 



In Bok 



emia 



©HERE'S a place where you do as you please, 
In Bohemia, 
Where no one will work, but all take their ease, 
In Bohemia. 
Not one is a slave but everyone free. 
There every one's happy as happy can be, 
They think what they like, don't care what they say. 
Act perfectly foolish, in any old way, 
In Bohemia. 

They dress as they please in old clothes or new. 

Of the decently clad, there are only a few. 

Some men wear red neck ties, and some have long hair, 

If you are looking- for freaks, they are sure to be there. 

Some men wear their shirt without any collar, 

They may have some brains, but they haven't a dollar. 

In Bohemia. 



Some women wear dresses very low in the back. 
And lower in front, but who cares for that. 
Some sing latest songs with a very good voice. 
While others attempting just make a big noise. 
They dance with great freedom, sometimes show a stock- 
ing, 
Their behavior at times you might think was shocking, 
In Bohemia. 



IN BOHEMIA— Continued 

All smoke cigarettes, drink beer, wine or whisky, 
They sometimes get full and sometimes get frisky, 
Eat pretzels, pig's knuckles or any old thing, 
Eat with much satisfaction all the waiter will bring. 
And nobody cares, and none criticize 
If the steins are well filled and large enough size, 
In Bohemia. 

No one is respectable, not one is genteel, 

No one is restricted, they act as they feel. 

With no thought for tomorrow, they do what they dare, 

They are free from restraint, and free from all care. 

This freedom gives license to women and men, 

It may bring remorse ; they don't think of it then, 

In Bohemia. 

Each man's a good fellow, the women the same, 
They are out for a lark and all play the game. 
They don't break the law, for law there is none. 
Whatever they do all take it in fun. 
Their talk may be foolish ; not every man thinks. 
Or acts very wise, when he's had several drinks. 
In Bohemia. 

These hilarious people turn night into day, 
Are not over careful in all that they say. 
They are free as the wind in word and in act, 
If you make there a visit, you'll find this a fact. 
You can have a gay time and forget every care, 
But don't let your wife know, you ever were there, 
In Bohemia. 



[71] 



A Certain To^vn 



M^^-^ HERE'S a certain town (we have been told, it's 

fl ^j the local train that stops) 

^^^X Where the farmers all wear whiskers, but it's 

seldom they wear socks. 
They never let a train go by unless they're at the station. 
Peculiar folks in country towns all bear them some relation. 

They all stand on the platform and gossip all the news 
From hotel bar to churches and the people in the pews; 
They have no business of their own, so they 'tend to other 

men's, 
And gather 'round in bunches, and act like cackling hens. 

There every day's like Sunday as you look down the street. 
And you must say "Good morning" to every man you meet ; 
The women all are beautiful, this they themselves admit, 
If you should differ with them, they won't like this a bit. 

This town is rather picturesque; has a roaring waterfall, 
And a charming little river; when this is said, that's all. 
They have no water in the town, though they sometimes 

wash their faces. 
Of course they never take a bath, like folks in other places. 



A CERTAIN TOWN— Continued 

That building on the corner they call their best hotel, 
The man that owns that hostelry will surely go to hell. 
He sells bad whiskey at the bar, but his kitchen's worse 

than that. 
For every bit of food they serve is always fried in fat. 
A man that's full of whiskey, may happy be sometimes, 
But a man with indigestion is fit for heinous crimes. 

Every year they have a "show fair," both the women and 

the men, 
Every farmer shows a pumpkin, every woman shows a hen ; 
One woman shows a patch work quilt, another maple candy. 
Another shows a custard pie, if surely is a dandy. 

They meet their friends and neighbors, and when they get 

together. 
The women talk about their ills ; men talk about the weather. 
Aristocratic citizens will sometimes show a horse, 
Or cow, or pig, or rooster; the best they have, of course. 



And each one's sure to get a prize (they have this matter 

fixed). 
But they're not always satisfied, as the prizes will get mixed. 
The man who shows the rooster gets the prize meant for 

the cow. 
When they ought to love each other, they start to make 

a row. 



A CERTAIN TOWN— Continued 

Then the band plays "Tipperary" ; hear the bagpipes and 

the drum, 
Soon the crowd will all be happy, all the boys enjoy the fun. 
When they're hungry they eat "hot dog," followed by an 

ice cream cone. 
Then they run to hunt the doctor, and they find him none 

too soon. 

This backward town's still on the map, but why we do 

not know, 
A town that's so behind the age, you can't expect to grow ; 
All the men who have ambition, left the place when they 

were young. 
As a consequence, improvements never yet have been begun. 

Where this town is situated, of course you do not know. 
You make a guess and then you say, "I know it's So- 

and-So," 
But I would never dare to tell or mention it by name, 
Its citizens would ne'er confess, they'd give me all the blame. 

This town lacks all conveniences that other places boast, 
And when a man gets out of it, he gives this town a "roast." 
Some day they'll have a sewer, and live like other folks. 
Until they do, don't blame them — they're only billy goats. 



[74] 



^i^o^odxo^osoxBxo^c&:isoso^^ 



To Our Host ancl Hostess 

Senator and Mrs. Peter McLaren, 

Perth, Ontario, Sept. 30th, 1915. 

(Written in the Guest Book.) 



G 



HE sundial in their garden, 
Marks off the fleeting hours; 
May they long enjoy the sunshine, 
Long enjoy the fragrant flowers. 



May they long have health and leisure ; 
Friends to love them in their home; 
This will give to them sweet memories, 
In the days when they're alone. 



[75] 



Xo Emma Cecelia Tkursb: 



CHERE is a place in this city; if you've ever been 
there 
You will never forget; it is in Gramercy Square. 
The homes of the wealthy were built round this 
park, 
Where the gates are all closed as soon as it's dark. 
These aristocrats think it a question of birth, 
And consider themselves the elect of the earth, 
But this class of people have moved far away 
And others far better have come here to stay. 

In one of these homes when you are a guest. 

You forget all the others and think this the best. 

You get in the lift, and at floor number seven 

You soon will conclude you are very near heaven. 

As you turn to the left, there a door open wide, 

Invites you to enter — there is music inside. 

And the songs that you hear are all very choice. 

Then the sweet smile of welcome will make you rejoice 

That you are invited to meet here with those 

Who think more of their friends than they do of their 

clothes. 
These two gentle sisters have friends by the score. 
And each year that passes they add many more. 



[76] 



^o^o^o^o^C8Xi:&xo^o^c&:e^^ 



TO EMMA CECELIA THURSBY— Continued 



You meet here with poets, or with men who can paint, 

Sometimes meet a sinner, sometimes meet a saint. 

Or perhaps meet a master whose old violin 

Would inspire you to thoughts that would keep you from 

sin. 
Or some charming woman with voice like a bird 
Sing the loveliest music that ever you heard. 
You may meet with a Bishop or an Indian Prince, 
As both were here calling not very long since. 

You meet famous women and men of renown. 
Who come here to visit when they are in town; 
And all of these friends are people worth while, 
Not noted for riches or putting on style, 
But women and men who are doing their part 
To make this world better by music and art; 
Or in kindly way lend to others a hand, 
For many need help in this busy land. 

Having met many friends, you stroll back to take tea. 
For the queen at the table you are anxious to see ; 
She graciously smiles — says, "What will you take?" 
She offers you tea which you drink for her sake. 
You do not need sugar, her smile is so sweet; 
Just this kind of angel you always will meet, 
If you call in on Friday at Gramercy Square, 
For these sort of angels are sure to be there. 



[77 



Lasting Friendsliips 




'MBITIOUS men and women from Almonte 
moved away, 
They longed for something broader, so there 
they could not stay. 
Out in the world they sought a place where they could 

make a name. 
If all did not succeed in this, they have themselves to blame. 
For the world is ever waiting for the men who work and 

strive. 
And this is very certain; only those who work can thrive. 

The town of Almonte's noted as the birthplace of the great, 
Who have made their mark in business and in affairs of 

state ; 
You can find them in the pulpit, in the college or the bank, 
Whatever their vocation they reach the highest rank. 
In each Canadian city you find men from Almonte now, 
And in the highest circles to them the people bow. 

Yet their thoughts turn back to childhood, to the town 

where they were born; 
They think of childhood pleasures, its hardships now they 

scorn. 



[78] 



LASTING FRIENDSHIPS—Continued 

Back to the days of youth and love as in a golden dream, 
When they roamed the hills and valleys or paddled up the 

stream. 
That Mississippi River was to them a thing of joy, 
Where the light canoe gave pleasure to every girl and boy. 



Those memories of childhood knit boys and girls together, 
And make for lasting friendships in bright or stormy 

weather ; 
Those boys and girls of early days, you find with hair 

turned gray. 
But the love for one another will last for many a day. 



io^o^o^o^o^o&:ec^c&:8:ec^ox^^ 




A Balsam Pillow 

PILLOW made of balsam, 
With the sweet smell of the wood, 
Turns your thoughts back to the mountains, 
If there's anything that could. 



When you slept out in the open, 
And the air was fresh and keen, 
The heavens seemed very near you, 
Only bright stars shone between. 

Your roof was made of cedar boughs, 
Your bed was made of balsam. 
Your supper, trout caught in the lake; 
Such food is always wholesome. 

The log fire just outside your camp. 
Is scented with the pines; 
Oh, how you love the smell of woods. 
In these vacation times. 

Your sleep brings such refreshment, 
That you renew your youth, 



[80] 




WHERE GOLDEN SUNLIGHT STREAMING THROUGH MAKES 

LACEWORK IN THE SHADOWS" 

See page 83 



A BALSAM PILLOW— Continued 

In these days up in the mountains; 
This surely is the truth. 

Then early in the morning, 
You feel just like a boy, 
And you fill your lungs with ozone, 
Every breath you much enjoy. 

You take a quick plunge in the lake, 
The water's clear and cold; 
If you could do this every day. 
You never would grow old. 

You lose no time in getting dressed, 
Quickly get your rod and flies. 
For you see there certain ripples. 
And you know the trout will rise. 

You gently push your light canoe, 
Out to the very spot; 
You cast your fly with greatest care, 
He takes it like a shot. 

And strikes for the deep water, 
Now you must show your skill. 
For if escape is possible. 
You know he surely will. 

He jumps up from the water. 

Now you know youVe hooked a prize. 

For you see the speckled beauty 

Is about the largest size. 



[81] 



^oe(xoxeo^o3xoxeox&xc0:eo^o^^^^ 



A BALSAM PILLOW— Continued 



Then you notice your companions 
Are watching from the shore, 
And they shout to you so much advice, 
You do not ask for more. 

That you also know a thing or two. 
They will not soon forget, 
For in due time you have the trout, 
Safe in your landing net. 

You know you've won a victory. 
But in the thickest of the fight, 
You feared the battle would be lost, 
And very well you might, 

For fishing is uncertain. 
And you do not always win; 
Then a man will sometimes criticise. 
You don't think much of him. 

Now you're ready for your breakfast. 
With an appetite that's fine. 
But you have to boast a little bit. 
About your rod and line. 



And chaff the other fellows 
Who stayed too long in bed. 
But you would not like to listen 
To what the other fellows said. 



ii:B:eos:ec8:eo^ixo^o^osc^^ 



A BALSAM PILLOW— Continued 



Each day brings you new pleasures, 
In sunshine or in showers, 
Life out of doors has given you 
Some very happy hours. 

You are very fond of fishing. 
But you also love to roam 
Over the hills and woodlands. 
When you're away from home. 

The tallest trees spread out their limbs. 
And form great gothic windows, 
Where golden sunlight streaming through, 
Makes lace work in the shadows. 

See where the sun shines brightest. 
The leaves are turning brown. 
You'll not forget these rambles. 
When you get back to town. 

If you have a balsam pillow, 
You often will remember, 
Those good times in the mountains. 
In the bright days of September. 



[83] 



^^osososi:xi:8:b:&:iso^^^ 



Tke Cricket 




OU pile the wood upon the hearth, 
You see it snap and blaze, 
Then your thoughts begin to wander, 
As in the flame you gaze. 



While sitting there in comfort. 
You dream of summer sun. 
When birds were singing in the fields; 
But now it's past and gone. 

Your thoughts go back to childhood 
When you picked the wayside flowers. 
When you wandered through the meadows, 
In those happy childhood hours. 

You would catch a bug or butterfly. 
And think you had a prize, 
If you could catch a cricket, 
Your hopes would quickly rise, 

For then you knew you'd have good luck. 
Fulfill your fondest wish, 
Perhaps a golden fortune, 
Passed in a golden dish. 



^p^:i^:&:eceo^o&xo^i:^^^ 



THE CRICKET— Continued 



When the fire has warmed the hearthstone, 
Then you hear a chirping sound; 
And you listen most intently; 
Ifs a cricket, I'll be bound! 

When all is still and quiet, 
Then he begins to sing, 
And this is how he does it — 
Draws his leg across his wing. 

He surely has brought luck to you, 
And now his song gives pleasure; 
You think of all your comforts 
And blessings without measure. 

While you sit close by the fireside, 
And hear chilling winds that blow. 
As you look out of the window 
See the air is filled with snow. 



Let your heart sing like the cricket. 
And your blessings ne'er forget. 
While the days are quickly passing. 
Hear the cricket — singing yet. 



Tne Blue Bird 




CHILD in gingham apron with flowing flaxen 
hair. 
That is the little maiden who is standing over 
there, 
And looking at a blue bird now sitting on a branch ; 
The child is so delighted, she stands as in a trance. 

For where do blue birds come from thus early in the spring, 

When winter's cold is hardly gone, with frost on every- 
thing ? 

"From Heaven this bird must surely come, for his coat is 
heavenly blue," 

This is the answer from the child and what she says is true. 

The rainbow in the sky proclaims that now the storm is 

done. 
The blue bird coming in the Spring foretells the Summer 

sun, 
This blue bird is Heaven's messenger foretelling Summer 

days; 
Just listen now to his Spring song; can you hear what he 

says? 



[86] 



THE BLUE BIRD— Continued 

Perhaps he sings that Winter *s past, that soon the flowers 

will, bloom ; 
Whatever words are in his song, we much enjoy the tune ; 
And it's only in the Springtime that he sings this song to 

you. 
Yet all the year he looks the same ; his coat is always blue. 



When winter comes the bobolink has changed his coat of 

gold. 
His feathers all are rusty brown soon as the days get cold ; 
But our little friend the blue bird always wears his coat 

of blue. 
Sings the same song every Springtime, and his note is 

always true. 



^^xosoxeoxixeo^o^o^o^c^^^ 



At tke Hunt Glut 

Oftawa, Ont. 

W^^^ HERE'S a man who takes the prizes in the town 

# ^ of Ottawa, 

^^^X He shoots at "Blue Rock" pigeons, and then he 

says, "Ha! Ha! 
If any man can beat it, let him now trot out his gun. 
And shoot the bloomin' pigeons :" the boys all like the fun. 

So each man comes and stands in line before the pigeon 

trap, 
He calls out "Pull," and fires his gun: then from the line 

steps back. 
There is a man behind him who keeps a careful score. 
He'll get credit for each bird he kills, but not for any more. 

The fellow who drinks lemonade before he takes a shot. 
Is safe to bet against the man who favors "ginger pop." 
But the man who takes scotch whiskey to make him feel 

"Braced up," 
Will seldom make a score that's high : will never win the cup. 
A man must have a clear brain, quick eye and steady hand. 
If he wants to win the prizes and with the Victors stand. 



[88] 




Drawn by Lawrence Ferris 



SOMETIMES A CANVASBACK' 
See page 120 



}XOX^sosox&:8:8:ec&xod:^^ 



AT THE HUNT CLUB— Continued 

V. V. Rogers gets the prizes : he's a man of good repute. 
Sets the boys a good example, and shows them how to shoot. 

He is fond of recreation, and he takes it when he can, 
But he's keen about his business as any other man. 
Is generous in his dealings : is much beloved at home. 
You won't see a finer gentleman, no matter where you roam. 



n 



Recreation 

IFE is full of contradictions. 
Mostly work, but sometimes play, 
If you blend them both together, 
This will make the happiest day. 



In the midst of daily labor, 

If you sometimes think of sport, 

It may keep your mind from turning 

Toward the things of baser sort. 



A Tale of a Dog 



M^^^ O commence with, this dog was called "Ponto" by 

fl ^j name, 

^^^^ Though if you but whistled, he'd come just the 

same. 
He ne'er took a prize on account of his beauty, 
But he always would do what he thought was his duty. 
Though he was simply a dog, thereby hangs a tale; 
If you offered him for fifty cents, you'd never make a sale. 
Though he had many virtues, they all were out of sight; 
We're writing this short story to help to set things right. 

His teeth were so bad on account of his age. 

He was feeble in fight, and this made him rage. 

For even a dog would rather be kicked 

Than by some other dog to be badly licked. 

But he never quite lost his desire for a fight, 

Though we tried to convince him that this was not right. 

He had many wounds on account of these wars; 

You could frequently see he was licking his sores. 

But when they were healed he was at it again, 

Perhaps in this thing he was much like some men. 



[90] 



X8:8»»»»:8:8»»»:e»:8:8»»»»»»»»»»:8»:8:8»»:8:^^ 



A TALE OF A DOG^Continued 

We have mentioned his faults ; he had many good points, 
Though stricken with age and stiff in the joints, 
He was a faithful old dog when set on the watch ; 
And here we might tell you his father was Scotch ; 
This may be a reason his father to blame, 

For on Sunday morning Ponto would go down the lane, 
And wait for the wagon that took us to church, 
To make sure that he be not left in the lurch. 
Unless he was tied up to church he would go; 
This dog was more pious than some folks you know. 



His going to church, with this dog, was a habit; 

Not a thing could prevent him, not even a rabbit. 

On the way to the church he would make no delays, 

Nor chase after squirrels, as on other week days. 

No pleasure kept him from this virtuous path. 

Nor even the sexton, whose unholy wrath 

Would drive him away when he came to the door. 

Yet this dog thought the church was for rich and for poor ; 

There are many church members that pretend to serve God, 

Who have less love in their hearts than "Ponto," the dog. 



AF 



armer 



IF you want to be a farmer, this much you ought 
to know, 
It certainly takes brains and brawn, to make 
potatoes grow, 
The good Lord sends the sunshine and gentle summer rain. 
Makes grass grow in the meadows and ripens all the grain, 

But you have got to plant it and always cultivate, 
Work early in the morning and often very late, 
If you neglect to do this, you will very surely find, 
You'll get weeds as your only crop, not any other kind. 

A man with brains and good hard work can make his farm- 
ing pay. 

Have potatoes in his cellar, in his barn have tons of hay, 

His cows will give him pails of milk, his sheep will give 
him wool. 

His hens will lay eggs "strictly fresh," he'll get a basket- 
ful. 

He may not dress in city style, or wear a high silk hat, 
Or even wear a collar, but no man cares for that; 
He can be independent, and with every day content, 
And when his days are ended feel life has been well spent. 



[92] 




In tke City 

OU sometimes read about a boy who early left 

the farm, 

That sleeps on downy pillow, not on hay mow 

in the barn. 

But let me tell you this much : where one has piled up cash, 

There are twenty other fellows completely gone to smash. 

You run across them every day in every walk of life, 
They try all sorts of business and then give up the strife. 
They have not got the strength to dig : to beg it is a shame ; 
They early left the good old farm, now have themselves 
to blame. 



They thought their duties on the farm the hardest kind 

of work, 
But when they got in business, their duties still they'd shirk. 
Of course they met with failure, that always is the case, 
As only those who persevere can ever win a race. 

A man that's working on a farm gets sunshine and fresh air, 
He is living close to nature, the sky above is fair. 
But when working in the city, inclosed by walls of stone, 
He's like a prisoner at his task, and often longs for home ; 

That home back on the hillside and the meadow sweet with 

hay. 
Where the meadow lark and bobolink are singing all the day, 
But he has to leave off dreaming of the sane and normal life, 
And work perhaps till midnight to support a city wife. 



^ox&xixs:eo^oxi^ox0:ix^^^ 



Lewiston Orchards 

M^^^HE finest of apples are now grown on land, 
fl ^j That a few years ago was nothing but sand. 
^^^^ Up there on the "mesa" unfruitful and bleak, 

A place less inviting would be hard to seek. 
But a man had a vision, that showed to him then, 
This land growing fruit and peopled by men 
Who had the ambition this land to possess. 
And grow fruit by the carload, not anything less. 

The soil was just right to grow luscious fruits. 

But no water was there to moisten the roots ; 

Far back in the mountain was a wonderful stream, 

To harness this water was his constant dream. 

Then he built a great basin the water to save. 

For he was determined this water to have. 

So, he brought down the water from up in the hills, 

A man can accomplish whatever he wills. 

Now acres of orchards spread over the land, 
That used to be nothing but dry desert sand. 
And beautiful homes you see 'round about, 



[94] 




THE PORCHES ARE 



TURNED INTO GREEN LEAFY BOWERS 
See page 95 



LEWISTON ORCHARDS— Continued 

With strong healthy children ; just hear how they shout. 
In the vigor of youth they are now having fun, 
Their cares and their trials have not yet begun. 



Around some of the homes you can see many flowers, 
The porches are turned into green leafy bowers, 
From the vines you can smell the scent of the rose, 
What a pleasure to rest there for noonday repose. 
There are many such homes where the apple trees bloom; 
If you want to enjoy one, you can't start too soon. 
You can grow the best apples that ever you ate, 
But you'll have to work often both early and late. 



TLe House tkat ^'JacV Built 

(Home of John P. MacLaren, Ottawa.) 

^ y^-^ AVE you seen the house that "J^^k" built on the 
W \ Rideau River bank, 

^JLJJ Where there used to be a sand hill, where the 

weeds grew very rank? 
This formerly unsightly place is now a thing of beauty. 
Which proves to you conclusively that "JsLck" has done his 
duty. 

Like Jacob's ladder, terraces rise from the river shore; 
They lead toward heaven, this is their home; they cannot 

ask for more. 
From every terrace hanging vines, like curtains, living 

green. 
Make this a "Hanging Garden," the finest you have seen. 

The path leads up some narrow steps; you pick your way 

with care. 
It's like a fairy garden; it's hanging in the air. 
When you reach the topmost terrace, you have the river 

view; 
That they chose a most attractive spot is evident to you. 



[96] 



<b:iso^i:8:!^o^o^C8:&:8:^^ 



THE HOUSE THAT "JACK" BUILT— Continued 

As you look up from the river you see a mass of flowers, 
Where Mr. Jack and Mrs. Jack spent many busy hours, 
And every hour when there they toiled brought to them 

both much pleasure, 
That place is now a thing of joy; their home a precious 

treasure. 

Each flower that's in the garden means very much to them, 
Each pebble on their garden path, to them seems like a gem ; 
Each plant's their own selection, they worked to make them 

grow, 
They have been more successful than other folks we know. 

You step out on an upper porch that overlooks the river, 
This is the place they always sleep in bright or stormy 

weather ; 
They get their health from good fresh air, though wintry 

winds may blow, 
They are very fond of sunshine, but not afraid of snow. 

The moonlight on the water shows a shimmering silver 

stream, 
In the East the bright stars glisten; while you look as in 

a dream. 
And you think of famous Venice, and you listen for a song, 
That may come from some gondola; but your thoughts to 

dreams belong. 

You are not in far-famed Venice by the Adriatic Sea ; 
You're on the street called Wurtenberg, just where you 
want to be 



[97] 



THE HOUSE THAT "JACK" BUILT— Continued 

To enjoy the love of home — friends that make your life 

worth while; 
Though sometimes you have hardships, you can greet them 

with a smile. 

They built their house for comfort, it is a lovely home, 
As you sit beside their fireside, you have no desire to roam ; 
With loving hospitality, they make you feel at rest. 
You do not care for other joys — conclude this home's the 
best. 



[98] 



A Visit to Mexico 



OU leave the land of "Uncle Sam" and cross the 
Rio Grande, 
From cultivated ranches soon pass to desert 
sand, 
See mesquite and prickly cactus ; nowhere a sight of green 
On the journey o'er this desert can anywhere be seen. 




This trip is always dusty, and sometimes very hot, 
To get baked in "Pullman sleeper" will likely be your lot. 
There is evidence of poverty as on the way you go ; 
At the end of five days journey you arrive in Mexico. 

The city stands above the sea about seven thousand feet, 
'Though you are in the tropics, you thus avoid the heat. 
You stroll about the city — see sights that interest ; 
The palace or the churches, whichever you like best. 



You can go to see a "Bullfight" if you are thus inclined, 
If you think that it is decent, you will quickly change your 

mind; 
You see nothing there but cruelty, that of the basest sort, 
Yet the Spaniards still regard it as their very finest sport. 



A VISIT TO MEXICO— Continued 



To Chepultipec, the Castle, there's a spacious avenue, 
They claim there is no finer; perhaps the statement's true. 
The Post Office and Theater look exceptionally well, 
But what is badly needed is a really good hotel. 

Great Popocatepetl is the mountain that you see. 

Perhaps you've read about it in your geography. 

There are many other mountains and some are capped with 

snow, 
Their names are Unpronounceable, if you should want to 

know. 

The City of Old Mexico is a very ancient town; 
The Cathedral is a wonder; of very great renown. 
'Twas on this spot the Aztecs in very ancient days, 
Here worshipped to the Sun God; so history now says. 

Then came the conqueror Cortez and robbed them of their 

gold, 
And many of the captured ones to slavery were sold. 
None of these ancient Mexicans are left upon the earth. 
There is not one to represent the land that gave them birth. 

The people now are all mixed up with every other race, 
If you followed up their pedigree, it would be a disgrace. 
They are now a bunch of mongrels ; a lot of "Ne'er do wells," 
At least this is the story that everybody tells. 

Can you expect such people to govern well a state. 
With no man in authority, no man they do not hate? 
Repeated revolutions have overrun this land; 
No foundation to their government ; it's built upon the sand. 



^^xc0:^ceo^o^o^o^o^oso^:eo^^^ 



A VISIT TO MEXICO— Continued 

The Spaniards in Old Mexico built cathedrals by the score, 
They always robbed the natives 'till they could stand no 

more. 
They had many revolutions until Diaz got command; 
He separated Church and State — drove the priesthood from 

the land. 

He was loyal to his country, and he built up a strong nation, 
No other man in Mexico reached such exalted station. 
At last were gathered 'round him some men of ill repute. 
And then his fall and banishment were sure to follow suit. 

While you are down in Mexico beneath the tropic sun. 
You'll be disgusted with the fare ; you're not the only one. 
For all who travel in that clime will tell the same old yam, 
That the "best hotel's" no better than an ordinary barn. 

The old hotels are built of stone, and the rooms are mostly 

dark. 
And the beds there are no softer than the benches in the 

park. 
With the "Patio" in the center ; the rooms are built around. 
From the door that's in your bedroom you step upon the 

ground. 

This "Patio" is sometimes a most delightful spot. 

With benches underneath the trees, to sit when it is hot. 

A fountain in the center, with many brilliant flowers, 

Their growth is most luxurious, helped by the daily showers. 



[101] 



K0XOSO3XOXBXO^O^O^O^I^^ 



A VISIT TO MEXICO— Continued 

If you leave the ancient city, the country to explore, 

You will have more tribulations than you ever had before. 

You may have to ride a donkey that's no taller than your 

legs, 
Your grub will be frijolis, you may sometimes get some 

eggs. 

If you go to Orizaba you will see the highest mountain ; 

You can see the glorious sun arise like water from a foun- 
tain. 

At the top of this great mountain peak there is perpetual 
snow. 

While at the base plants tropical are growing, as you know. 

The views among these mountains are wonderfully fine. 
In the woods are brilliant flowers, and many a climbing 

vine. 
Some orchids in the treetops look like a flame of fire. 
You gather wild flowers in your path, as much as you desire. 

The mountains in Old Mexico abound in precious ore, 
The valleys bring forth food stuff in an abundant store. 
On lowlands at the coast you find mahogany and oil. 
This does not make the natives rich, no matter how they toil. 



Continue on your journey to Cordova, where they grow 
More different kinds of tropic fruits than any place we 

know. 
And there among the shadows of overhanging trees. 
You find the coffee berry on bushes, if you please. 




BUILT CATHEDRALS BY THE SCORE 
See page 101 



x^o^o^:)^ceo^o^o^oso^o^osc^^ 



A VISIT TO MEXICO— Continued 

Your trail leads over mountains, crosses many a deep ravine ; 
The mountain views are wonderful, the best you've ever 

seen. 
You travel several nights and days to get to Vera Cruz, 
And there you find it is so hot, your clothing's of no use. 

The dirty streets in Vera Cruz not many years ago. 
Caused the plague of yellow fever ; 'twas the filth that made 

it so. 
The only scavengers they had were the buzzards in the 

street, 
But "Uncle Sam" scoured up the town ; he made it clean and 

neat. 

He showed the careless Mexican a sanitary sample, 
And showed again in Panama an excellent example. 
If you're cleanly in your habits, and careful what you eat, 
You can live in sultry tropics regardless of the heat. 

From the town of Orizaba you can take a four mule ''tram" 
About a half day's journey to the town of Tehuacan. 
This trip is quite unusual ; it's horribly dusty. 
The car is filled with Indians that certainly smell "musty.'* 

They drive the mules a galloping when going down a grade, 
They all enjoy the danger, no matter what's ahead. 
When at last the journey's over, you there can take a bath, 
There's a tank with running water ; it's just beside the path. 



[1031 



A VISIT TO MEXICO— Continued 

The drinking water here is fine, it's quite a heahh resort, 
People come here for the water; they also come for sport. 
This is on the Southern Railroad, the cars are narrow gauge, 
To tell of the discomforts, would fill much more than a page. 

As you journey further southward where the altitude is low. 
You find it's getting awful hot, "Terra Calientes" there you 

know, 
When on the train, you first take ofiF your coat and then your 

collar, 
Dine at a Chinese restaurant; get lunch for half a dollar. 

To your surprise you are refreshed by what you eat and 

drink, 
You get your fill of sundry foods, and then you tip the 

"Chink." 
Proceeding on your journey you are soon 'mid mountain 

scenes. 
The rocks are twisted out of shape in those terrible ravines. 



Here the earthquakes and volcanoes 'way back a million 
years, 

Made havoc in this wilderness ; even now you're filled with 
fears, 

As you contemplate how awful was the overturning ground ; 

But where the earth has been convulsed, the gold is some- 
times found. 



A VISIT TO MEXICO—Continued 

You get to old Oaxaca *bout when the clock strikes seven. 
Take tram car to "the best hotel," but this is far from 

Heaven. 
In the food you have for supper, you get biscuits made like 

lead, 
Then the maid gives you a candle and you wander off to bed. 

If early in the morning to the market you will go, 

You will find there varied flowers that make a gorgeous 

show. 
If you buy ihem in the morning, they are wilted before 

night, 
And wilted flowers are surely not a very pleasant sight. 

The fruit stalls in the market are wonderful to see, 
There tropic fruits of every kind in great variety 
Will tempt you to indulge in all — ^you better now resist. 
For some of them may make you ill ; take my advice ; desist. 



On all sides the "Alameda" has rows of orange trees, 
You stroll there in the evening and much enjoy the breeze, 
And music by the Mexicans who have a famous band; 
It*s the fashion every evening to walk *round the music stand. 



A Trip to tke Mines 



IF you have the curiosity to see a mining camp, 
You'll ride on horseback many miles, and many 
miles you'll tramp. 
But it is a great experience and you'll enjoy the trip. 
If you have a horse surefooted and from the trail don't slip. 

As you wind around the mountains on a very narrow trail, 
Your heart is apt to "pit-a-pat" for fear your horse should 

fail. 
There you look down into canyons for full three thousand 

feet, 
If your horse should happen to slip off, you'd need a winding 

sheet. 

But when on top the mountains you have a splendid view. 
See mountains piled on mountains, and this is something 

new, 
Well worth the journey and the toil if you're a city man. 
So we recommend it to you — go see it if you can. 



At daylight in the morning you get astride a horse. 
That looks about worth "thirty cents," this you expect of 
course. 



[106] 



K&:!ticeod:&:&:i^cB:&o^!^:$^^ 



A TRIP TO THE MINES— Continued 



Before the day is over the horse will look all right. 

But you will be so sore somewhere, you'll be a sorry sight. 

Those mountain trails in places are as steep as any roof, 
Before you've gone so very far you'll surely have the proof, 
That walking down is easier than bestride the horse's back, 
So you get down off your saddle, and trudge along the track. 

You do not need a dinner bell to tell the time for lunch, 
You'll find you have an appetite that's got a dreadful 

"punch," 
You look then for a shadow beneath some spreading tree, 
You'll eat with zest what's in your bag, or else you're not 

like me. 

You're grateful for the shadow ; the sun is very hot, 

The mountain stream comes tumbling down right near this 

very spot, 
And here the Indian women will sometimes come to swim, 
If you should take their fancy, perhaps they'll ask you in. 

You will not need a bathing suit; they will not ask you 

whether 
You brought one with you; being innocent, they wear the 

"alltogether." 
Their houses have no furniture ; only a pot and pan. 
Their fire is built upon the dirt ; this is the simple plan. 
Their food is mostly peppers and a little Indian corn, 
This is their daily ration since the day that they were born. 
The man always has a blanket, but never has he shoes; 
He carries a "machette" no matter where he goes. 




tX8»»:8»»»:^>:^^o<a>:vo:^>:h^x 



[107] 



fXOSXOSO^OSOeOSXOXBXOSO^OS^^ 



A TRIP TO THE MINES— Continued 

On his head is a "Sombrero," the most costly he can buy, 
He has no money in the bank, in fact he does not try 
To save a peso, but he wants to wear a very gorgeous hat, 
For his standing in the neighborhood is always known by 
that. 

The Sierre Juarez Indians are industrious quiet men, 
Except when drinking "pulque" — you'd better look out then. 
For in his belt you'll always find that he has got a knife. 
Then with liquor in his muddled brain, he has no regard 
for life. 



On one trip in these mountains we were met by highwaymen. 
Who held us up demanding cash ; they thought they had us 

then; 
One had a big "machette," the other had a gun. 
They both demanded money as they reckoned we had some. 

But one of our own party (in Texas was his home) 
Punched one man underneath the chin before he raised 

his gun. 
Before the other drew his knife he hit him in the face. 
He knocked them both upon their backs, in manifest dis- 
grace. 
These Mexican highwaymen were just a pair of fools, 
They could not have been harder hit had they been kicked 

by mules. 
We left them lying in the road, their tongues were hanging 

out; 
When next they stop Americans, they'll think what they're 
about. 



A TRIP TO THE MINES— Continued 

At two-thirds of your journey, it can't be any more, 
You arrive at the "Parada," you are very tired and sore; 
You are glad to lie upon a cot, and get a little rest. 
This is the only stopping place, and you have done your best. 

There are stone huts at "Parada" owned by an Indian 

squaw ; 
'Tis said her husband was a brigand, the worst you ever saw, 
General Diaz sent some soldiers and shot him in the night; 
If the brigand had first seen them, he'd have got away all 

right. 



There is an ancient ruined chapel that is very close at hand, 

Where the robbers doubtless gathered ; there was a numer- 
ous band. 

They would kill a man and rob him, and then confess the 
deed, 

The Priest was paid to pardon them, and this he did with 
speed. 

But now this ancient chapel is the stable for a cow, 

This shows how very different were other times than now ; 

The glory of the chapel has surely passed away. 

But times of peace and safety we hope are here to stay. 

The stone huts at "Parada" are on the mountain top. 
The only place for many miles where any travelers stop. 
They can get a drink of "pulque," but sometimes they take 

beer, 
We once got some fried chicken when we were resting 

here. 



A TRIP TO THE MINES— Continued 

We had a queer experience one very stormy night, 
Arriving here all wet and cold and in a sorry plight ; 
The hut was filled with Indians and they refused to quit, 
Until a friendly Mexican just ordered them to "git." 

Then with saddles off our horses, they were tied beneath a 

shed; 
We had to lie upon the ground, we had not any bed. 
We lay down in our coats and boots ; I even wore my hat, 
But with this extra clothing could not keep warm at that. 

The squaw made us some coffee, she boiled it in a pot. 
And we were glad to get it, for it was something hot. 
Don't kick about discomforts when you're on a mining trip. 
Just take things as they come along, they won't hurt you a 
bit. 

As you cross Sonora River you can see the mining camp; 
The ore goes through the crusher, then is powdered by the 

stamp. 
From there to Wilfley tables, that shake as if by hand 
To separate the minerals — the gold apart from sand. 



The ore comes there in buckets from off an "aerial tram," 
That reaches from the mill top to the mine of "El Carman" ; 
The water in the river gives the power to run the mill. 
The stream is always roaring, the water's never still. 




THE INDIAN WOMEN WILL SOMETIMES COME TO SWIM 
See page 107 



A TRIP TO THE MINES— Continued 

Near the mill sight is an orchard, you'll find oranges and 

limes, 
And alligator pear trees, all covered up with vines, 
With a multitude of roses, and orchids by the score. 
You can fill a wagon with them, and then leave many more. 

At nearly every hillside you'll find it full of holes. 

The natives here all dig for gold, for this they'd give their 

souls. 
Gold is a great temptation, the cause of many a sin. 
It's worse than wine or women, or even "Gordon Gin." 

A few days in these mountains will give you recreation. 

Quite different from what you've had in summer time va- 
cation ; 

The roads about are never smooth, they're sometime mighty 
rough. 

But in the end you'll surely say, "That trip was just the 
stuff." 



[Ill] 



io^o^c&:^050^o^c&:)xe^^ 



Mining Experience 



^-T|p^E have all read of Mexico; it is a land of gold, 
^ I ^ But you want to take it with you ; this is what 
\sj|>r I have been told. 

There's much gold in the mountains; it is a 
wondrous land, 
But it's mighty hard to get the gold and have it in your hand. 

You need to take gold with you ; it's hard to get the dust, 
It takes the cash to dig the hole, and dig for it you must. 
And the digging is not easy; it is not a simple task, 
And mighty few get gold enough to ever fill a cask. 

But some men have made fortunes in digging up the dirt, 
Though more have had misfortune and have been badly hurt. 
There's a strange infatuation that seizes on a man. 
When he's hunting for the gold ; sees it glitter in the pan. 



His head is filled with visions of the riches he may find, 
But usually it happens that its "only in his mind." 
The vein that looks so certain runs up against "a fault," 
And his hope of sudden fortune comes to a sudden halt. 



Keoso^c^o^c^o^o^o^i:^i:^:ec^^^ 



MINING EXPERIENCE— Continued 

More gold's been spent in mining than has been taken out, 
The man that makes this statement, now knows what he's 

about, 
He now has clearer vision than he did have in the past, 
And that money spent in Mexico will surely be his last. 



For he has had experience ; a teacher hard, you bet, 
But he has learned some wisdom ; it's sticking to him yet. 
If he ever saves a dollar, he'll now put it in the bank. 
For this little bit of wisdom, he has "Experience" to thank. 

For definition of a mine, you sometimes find it thus. 
When you have had experience, it's Mine — Miner — Minus. 



On tke OU Plantation 

M^^»^ HE icy breath of winter when o'er all the frozen 

/ C\ North, 

^^^^ Bids those who love the Southland pack up and 

sally forth. 
You can take a spacious steamer, and get the salt sea breeze, 
While you go down to Savannah where you find magnolia 
trees. 

In the North you have December, but there like days in 

June, 
And you find the yellow jasmine and the roses yet in bloom, 
And you note the change in climate that you find in Georgia 

now, 
While all the North is freezing, and the land is clothed in 

snow. 

Watch how the birds with wisdom avoid the winter chill. 
Seek for the warmth of sunshine on south side of the hill ; 
All talk the matter over, then quickly they decide 
That they will journey southward, and there they will abide. 



Nature provides the birds with wisdom to forsee 
The ice will strip the leaves from every tree, 




'captain ROGERS WITH HIS GOOD OYSTER BOAT" 
See page 115 



ON THE OLD PLANTATION— Continued 

Nor bush nor grass will furnish them with seed, 

But in the sunny Southland, there is food for every need. 

The birds are warned of the approaching storm, 

All told that in the South the sun is warm. 

Watch how they flock together quite early in the Fall, 

They then forsake the Northland, fly southward one and all. 

This is a good example and surely men may know 

That they should also migrate from the land of ice and 

snow, 
Seek health and pleasure in the sunny South, 
Thus in enjoyment to renew their youth. 

You leave Hotel DeSoto; go to the "Isle of Hope," 
You there meet Captain Rogers, with his good oyster boat. 
He takes you down along the coast, he knows the way to go. 
Sometimes the tide is running swift, sometimes its run- 
ning slow ; 

But as it draws toward evening you get to "Belvidere," 
This is the old plantation, you're very welcome here; 
When you get up to the cottage. Mother Rogers you will see, 
With pleasant smile, and winsome voice ; she's as happy as 
can be. 

She can cook the finest dinner, that you did ever eat. 
Can broil a bird, or roast a duck — her pancakes can't be beat. 
She has kind words for everyone. She has two husky boys 
Who love their dear old mother — this adds much to her joys 



[115] 



}OSX0^OSO3X0SOXISOSOSOSO^C^^ 



ON THE OLD PLANTATION— Continued 

Under the long leaf pine or spreading live oak trees, 
You can be very happy while walking at your ease ; 
The mammoth leaves of palm trees you very much admire, 
You can hunt for yellow jasmine, if this is your desire. 

Some of our friends are fond of style ; to Palm Beach they 

must go, 
But for me, the old plantation where the "Pickaninnies" 

grow. 
Where you see the rice and cotton or the rows of yellow corn. 
And the "Darkies," who've been lazy since the day that they 

were born. 

Because they live in Georgia, not in the state of Maine, 
They would rather "pick a banjo" than to cut the sugar cane ; 
If you pay them fifty cents a day ; four days they'll work for 

you; 
But if you pay a dollar they'll only work for two. 

The other days they get some bait and then go off to fish. 
But they're as happy, all day long, as any one could wish. 
Their wives take in the washing, and earn enough for 

"grits," 
Or else the man will take a club, and sure he'll "give 'em 

fits." 

These Darkies all have strong belief in every woman's right, 
To work all day at washing, then to iron for half the night. 
So the men can go off fishing, until they see the moon, 
Then men and dogs and neighbors all go to hunt the 'coon. 



[116] 



ON THE OLD PLANTATION— Continued 

You there meet Captain Silas ; a man that is worth while ; 
Though doubled up with "Rhumatiz," he'll greet you with 

a smile. 
He gets the seedling oysters, and plants them in the creek, 
Sends a hundred bushel large ones to Savannah every week. 

There Lowden takes the oysters and puts them up in tin, 
They are sold throughout the country from Maine to Wis- 
consin ; 
This Lowden is a thrifty man and he makes lots of money. 
He makes the bees all work for him, but he gets all the honey. 

The old plantations years ago were justly famed for cotton. 
The owners now are dead and gone, their names have been 

forgotten ; 
The White man in the years gone by, was Master of the 

slaves, 
But slaves and masters now are gone, both buried in their 

graves. 

Thousands of idle acres now are used as game preserve. 
For the negro will not work himself, no master will he serve. 
He only grows enough of corn to keep him from starvation ; 
His hogs root up what grub they get, this furnishes the 
bacon. 



You lay aside all thought of rank and every other station. 
And lead a very simple life when on the old plantation ; 
You never do today, what can be done tomorrow, 
Forget the cares of business and every other sorrow. 



ON THE OLD PLANTATION— Continued 

"Before the war" these niggers were always made to work, 
But freedom gave them license ; all duties now they shirk ; 
The Black man fails in most of things when he gets edu- 
cation, 
As preachers or in politics they're no credit to the nation. 

The finest masts for sailing ships are cut from Georgia pine, 
It's tough and hard, and in the grain it certainly is fine ; 
Their trunks are straight as arrows, and they grow so very 

high. 
That when you walk beneath them, they seem to reach the 

sky. 
In the swamps you find the cypress and the magnolia tree, 
Long clinging moss hangs from the boughs ; this frequently 

you see. 
Some live oak trees with spreading limbs like giants may 

be seen; 
Through the winter and the summer their leaves are always 

green. 

On a warm and muggy evening the sandfly *s at his best; 
When you've had a hard day tramping and you want to 

take a rest. 
There are ten million of them, and every one will bite ; 
So early in the evening you must put out the light. 



And sit in darkness in the smoke of a disgusting "smudge," 
As this is found the only way to make the "critters" budge. 
They get into your nose, your eyes, and then into your hair, 
And whatever place they get into, you're sure to know they're 
there. 




THE MAMMOTH LEAVES OF PALM TREES YOU VERY MUCH ADMIRE 
See page 116 



^o&:BOxeo^os:0:eosxo^ 



ON THE OLD PLANTATION— Continued 

There are "skeeters" in New Jersey, but the sandfly is a 

beast. 
You may swat him all you please, he doesn't mind it in the 

least ; 
And when the beggar bites you the "skeeter" is no match. 
There are so many of them, oh my ! it makes you scratch. 

You take a day with hounds and gun ; you hunt the running 

deer. 
It's in the swamp you find them, there's plenty of them here ; 
Tie up the hounds, then with your gun and a good Gordon 

setter. 
You hunt for quail — there is no sport that suits you any 

better. 

The wild doves still are plentiful, there are many in the 

flocks, 
That come from out the pine trees to feed in open lots ; 
They fly swifter than the swallow, you must be quick of eye. 
Or you'll miss your chance to shoot them as they are flying 

by. 



There is no other bird on earth, compares with the wild 

turkey, 
His head erect, his eye alert, bronze coat a blaze of glory. 
At sight of him your heart beats fast ; perhaps you'll get a 

shot. 
But you must have a steady nerve, or you'll miss him like 

as not. 



ON THE OLD PLANTATION— Continued 

For in the thickest of the woods he very quickly hides, 
He knows just how to do this, and other things besides ; 
If you attempt to hunt him, he'll beat the fastest runner, 
And you will never catch him, if you hunt until next summer. 

The "Niggers" shoot them in the dark when roosting on a 

tree. 
But such a way to get them is not for you or me; 
Another way to get them is to build a careful "blind," 
Then spread the corn in front of it; and this the birds 

soon find. 

The turkeys in the morning, will come at break of day. 
Will find the corn and eat if. You must early get away. 
And be well hid behind the "blind," before it yet is light; 
Then you watch for turkey gobbler, and shoot him at first 
sight. 

Another time with boat and gun you hunt the mallard duck, 
Down in the creek you'll find him, if you have any luck, 
There's blue winged teal, and shelldrake ; sometimes a can- 
vas back, 
You often see the marsh hens — of game there is no lack. 



If you wait 'til early Springtime, you can see the Alligator, 
As he lays out in the sunshine, on the bank right near the 

water ; 
He's like a bear, he hibernates, and hides beneath the mud ; 
His looks are so repulsive, that we really think he should. 




YOU HUNT THE RUNNING DEER 
5"^^ page 119 



Kes:&:isoso^os:^c^o^o^o^o^^^ 



ON THE OLD PLANTATION— Continued 

Now when the day is over, we gather 'round the table, 
And each one tells some story — the best that he is able; 
Of sport he's had with rod or gun, in this place, or some 

other ; 
These are the times that each man feels, the other man's his 

brother. 




'you hunt for quail' 



[121] 



Tke Wind — Contrasts 

M^^*^HE wind is terrific when out in its strength, 

# 0\ When it tears up the trees and lays them full 

^^y length, 

When it twists off the boughs, breaks the trees 
limb from limb, 
And roars like a giant, with a terrible din. 

When it whirls at the ocean and beats it to foam, 
Then God help the sailor when he's far from home, 
For the wind can make wreck of the staunchest of ships. 
Throw them hard on the rocks, and smash them to bits. 

Did you ever stand on a surf beaten shore, 
When the waves mountain high came in with a roar, 
And in thundering tones threw the spray in the air? 
No ship could then live if it had been there. 



The rocks on the shore are beaten and worn, 
By the force of the waves through many a storm, 
While the wind in its fury has stirred up the sea, 
Thrown it back on the land in such horrible glee. 



THE WIND— CONTRASTS— Continued 

When a man is in anger, his thoughts lead to hate, 
He'll do that to his neighbor which would disgrace the state. 
But this same man when gentle, and loving and sane, 
Will do good to his neighbors, help the sick and the lame. 

So the wind which in fury causes endless distress. 
When tempered to gentleness all people will bless. 
Will bring health, and give pleasure wherever it blows, 
Why are men ever hateful? Why, nobody knows. 

Watch the wind in a frolic like a mischievous boy, 
Who plays pranks on his comrades, the fun to enjoy; 
It will rush at a man and blow off his hat. 
When he runs fast to get it, he finds it crushed flat 

By a cart that was passing, for the driver you see 
Got sand in his eyes, and was blind as could be. 
The wind chased a lady and blew up her skirt. 
Made a scene for the neighbors, but that didn't hurt. 

The wind laughed in glee when a bright autumn day, 
The trees dropped their leaves — all quiet they lay. 
'Till the wind grabbed up handfuls and tossed them about. 
Made the children delighted ; you could hear the boys shout. 

The wind caught a man who was wearing a wig. 
He was very eccentric and much of a prig; 
It blew off his hat ; his wig, it was lost ; 
His abundant conceit, then had a great frost. 



[123] 



r:B:eoso^oso50^o^o^ot^^ 



THE WIND— CONTRASTS— Continued 

The wig was picked up by a mischievous boy, 

Who tied the wig on for whiskers, the man to annoy ; 

This afforded amusement for every small kid; 

When the man tried to catch them, they were sure to be hid. 

The wind was in sport when it blew down a fence, 

Put up by a neighbor, who had not the sense, 

To take as a joke what was meant to be fun, 

He was "mad as a hatter," when he saw what was done. 

For the sheep from the pasture got into his garden, 
Did not say "By your lief" or "I beg your pardon," 
But they ate up his lettuce and his peas every one, 
They were just as contented as a dog with a bone. 

The wind in the barnyard got after the cow, 
Blew her into the cow shed, she could not tell how. 
The maid milked the cow when she found her in there, 
But the milk in the pail was half filled with hair. 

The wind caught the calf, fairly twisted his tail. 
And he ran for the fence, but he hit the top rail. 
The wind struck the hen coop, surprised an old hen. 
Who'd been sitting on eggs, since I can't tell you when. 

The wind made some trouble with the farmer's old bull, 
And he pawed up the ground, while with wrath he was full ; 
For the maid had hung out the farmer's red shirt. 
This made the bull mad, so he pawed up the dirt. 



[124] 



ioxi^i:i^i:eo^:&:ecis^^ 



THE WIND— CONTRASTS— Continued 

For the wind blew the shirt from off the clothes line, 
And the bull started in for the deuce of a time ; 
Made a dash for the maid as she climbed the back fence, 
What was left of her skirt, wasn't worth thirty cents. 

Right back of the kitchen was the farmer's beehive ; 
The wind blew it over — the bees were alive; 
They resented the insult, and half of the swarm 
Got after the "hired man" as he ran for the barn. 

They got in his hair, stung his nose and his lip, 
Then he swore like a trooper, could not help it a bit; 
Though he ran like a deer with many a jump. 
Wherever the bees stung him it raised a big lump. 

These are some of the things the wind does in a frolic, 
It may make a man laugh, or cry with the colic. 
The wind in a rage may cause wrecks or drown men, 
But the wind when it's gentle, couldn't ruffle a hen. 



[125] 



Central Park 

IN the midst of the City with its turmoil and strife, 
There's a spot of green earth, where a different 
life 
Can be found 'neath the shadows of wide-spread- 
ing trees, 
Where you lay aside cares, and can rest if you please. 

On a bright sunny morning you find in the Park, 
Many things that will please you, and if you but hark, 
Will hear songs of the birds, and see much to admire, 
And your mind will be rested, your thoughts will reach 
higher. 

You can dream you're far distant from things that annoy. 

In the beauties of nature find much to enjoy, 

As you quietly sit on a bench in the shade. 

You may see a bird's nest that's been recently made. 

With no thought for the future, the birds find each day 
The food that they need ; they don't even pray, 
But trust their Creator that he will provide 
For all that they need, and much more beside. 



[126] 




'long clinging moss hangs from the boughs" 

See page 118 



^ixosxo^i:ei:&:&:i^c^o^i:e^^ 



CENTRAL PARK—Continued 

They can feed on the crumbs that some people may waste, 
With this they're content, all seems good to their taste; 
They get food they require, ''Enough is good as a feast/' 
An over abundance would not help in the least. 

You enjoy the bright sunshine and soon near your seat, 
The sparrows will gather, come quite near your feet; 
They have nothing to fear, they have never been harmed. 
And if you keep still, they will not be alarmed. 

And frisky grey squirrels will make such a chatter. 
You will soon want to know what can be the matter. 
But they are so tame, they will eat from your hand, 
They talk in a chatter ; it is nuts they demand. 

If you deal with one gently, he will sit on your knee, 
And seem just as happy as ever can be ; 
To bring out the nuts he will crawl in your pocket. 
But you just touch his tail, and he's off like a rocket. 

As you sit by the lake, soon a noble white swan, 
With tall graceful neck comes sailing along. 
He does not come near you, but as he glides by 
He moves with great dignity — will you tell me why ? 

Out there on the point you see a large flock 
Of Canadian geese, clustered near by a rock. 
They make quite a noise, but they cannot talk wise, 
They are just simply geese, could it be otherwise ? 



[127] 



^ceo^od:e:B:^ceceo^o^c^o^:^^ 



CENTRAL PARK— Continued 

Watch close by that bush ; do you see that blackbird ? 
Now that is the chap whose shrill note you just heard; 
He flies down to the lake and right by the brink, 
He catches a June bug before you can think. 

The starling is a worker; though he lives in the Park, 
He gets all his work done before it is dark. 
He will turn over the leaves and dig up his dinner, 
And he asks help from no one, sure as I am a sinner. 

Now in a gondola some children pass by. 

This gives them much pleasure, though perhaps you or I 

Would find little in this, to bring us content; 

You might choose a steam yacht, if on pleasure bent. 

Beneath a rustic arbor, you sit and view the shore, 
And contemplate its beauties as you never did before, 
Its rocky points and shady coves, that end among the rushes, 
The green lawn on the other side shows just above the 
bushes. 

Your mind's brought from wandering now by the sound 
Of a terrific explosion that's just underground. 
Where they're building the subway and blasting the rock, 
It's quite like an earthquake and gives you a shock. 

Brings your thoughts back from nature, the lake, flowers and 

trees, 
Where you catch songs of birds on the warm summer breeze, 
To the strenuous life, where men are now making 
A way underground; 'tis a great undertaking. 



[128] 



}oxiXB:B:iso5osod:&:^o^^^ 



CENTRAL PARK— Continued 

The streets are now torn up and in such a mess, 
That they ever looked decent, you never could guess. 
But the work will be finished at some future time, 
Then you'll ride many miles, for the half of a dime 



You can go to the Bronx, you can go to the sea, 

Wherever you are, you happy can be, 

If you lay aside care and think much of nature, 

Be content with the present, take no thought for the future. 



^od:eox&xs:&:isceo^o^o^c&^^ 



At tke Otelisk 

Central Park 

■^w^E sit beside the Obelisk, its point is raised on high, 
■ ■ ■ ^^ know not who the maker was, nor how, nor 
\M^ where, nor why; 

This ancient stone transplanted from far off 
Egypt's plain. 
To a new world not known about in Cleopatra's reign. 

The pomp and glory of this world shall surely pass away. 
For a thousand years in sight of God is but a passing day. 
We see the carving on the stone rehearsing glories gone, 
Of those who were great conquerors — how soon their day 
was done. 

The Pharaos in those ancient days were cruel men at best. 
No kindly thoughts for other men ; mankind they never blest. 
They made the lives of others but stepping stones for self ; 
Enriched themselves at others' loss, while gathering their 
pelf. 



[130] 



^oso^o&:fso^o^o^o^:eo^i:^^ 



AT THE OBELISK— Continued 

That race of men has passed away, as history now tells; 
Their descendants are not worthy — they're a class of "Ne'er 

do wells," 
Thus many nations rise and fall : each nation has its day, 
The Anglo-Saxon now on top — for how long; who can say? 

But the world is getting better and the English speaking race 
Is working now to help mankind : to lift to higher place 
The lowly and unfortunate ; to bring the Brotherhood of man 
Not only to their neighbors, but everywhere they can. 

To have the world grow better, each one must do his share 
To help the nearest to him — of great things best beware ; 
Do little deeds of kindness, but do them every day ; 
"You are a faithful servant" at last the Lord will say. 

Your fame may not be graven on an obelisk of stone. 

But if written on the hearts of men, will last when life is 
done. 

If to yourself you're always true, you'll reap the best re- 
nown; 

Commended by the Righteous Judge who sits on Heaven's 
throne. 



[131] 



Bronx Park 

^^ — 'W' PLACE for the children and for those that are 

m 1 grown, 

] ^ M^ Can be found in the Bronx, about twelve miles 

uptown ; 
This beautiful park was not spoiled in the making, 
They have kept close to nature in this undertaking. 

The woods and the rocks and the beautiful stream, 
Are preserved as God made them, like a wonderful dream. 
Where the fields are enchanted and the birds sing a song. 
In some shady nooks the fairies belong. 

The banks of the river are shaded by trees. 
You may sit on the shore and enjoy the fresh breeze, 
You can see many people that are in a row boat. 
They are safe in their pleasure as long as they float. 

In the weeds near the shore you can hear the frog croak. 
Perhaps he is saying "Stop rocking that boat," 
Though if they should happen to turn upside down, 
They are sure to get wet, but not likely to drown. 



[132] 



BRONX PARK— Continued 

A dog in the water is having great fun, 
He jumps over for sticks, brings them back every one ; 
When he shakes off the water look out for the shower, 
He has kept up this frolic for more than an hour. 

Not far from the river rugged rocks you can climb; 
They would seem like small mountains, if it took longer time, 
To get up to the summit and down to the plain. 
But if they're called mountains, its only in name. 

Some trees are majestic with branches outspread, 
You can lie underneath with the grass for a bed. 
Then commune there with nature, look up toward the sky, 
With heart full of gratitude ; you've good reason why. 

Underneath the dark shadows where branches hang low. 
You frequently see some girl with her beau, 
'Tis a fortunate place for the lovers to spoon. 
They sometimes go there in the light of the moon. 

Take the path from the river that leads to the Zoo, 
There is much to be seen and you'll find sport there too. 
If you watch the sea lions while they're feeding them fish. 
You will see they're not eating them out of a dish. 



But they climb on the rocks, then they give a loud call ; 
The man throws the fish as fast as a ball ; 
They never miss one, but with very swift motion, 
They catch every fish until each has its portion. 



r:e:&:&:eos:)s:s^:&xo^^ 



BRONX PARK— Continued 

With this way of feeding they seem very proud, 
And afford entertainment to quite a large crowd. 

Go a short stroll from there, see a wonderful cage. 
The names of the birds there would fill more than a page. 
There is much to instruct, and much to amuse, 
If you feed the birds peanuts, they never refuse. 

Many stand 'round the pond, as if looking for fish, 
Doubtless fish and not peanuts, is what they most wish. 
Here you see the tall crane, and the pink flamingo. 
And all kinds of ducks swimming by in a row. 

You see the grey and the white and the great pelican, 
Whose bill holds more fish that his big belly can. 
These are some of the things that most people amuse. 
But you can find others, whatever you choose. 

You can go watch the monkeys and see them catch fleas, 
See the lion and tigers, whatever you please. 
There is Gunda the elephant, he's of wonderful size. 
And a fat hippopotamus, with very small eyes. 



There is a great rhinoceros with only one horn. 
Though strange it may seem, it's the way he was born. 
There are zebras and bisons, a great polar bear ; 
You can tell by his actions he don't like it there. 

There is much more to see in this wonderful Zoo ; 
If you once make a visit, no one needs to tell you. 



BRONX PARK— Continued 

You can go farther on and see beautiful flowers, 
For the great Horticultural garden is ours ; 
The City has given it to you and to me, 
And we can enjoy everything that we see. 

The Bronx is a joy to the rich and the poor, 

You here can enjoy to the full every hour. 

These parks are a blessing in which all have a share, 

We can each get our part whenever we're there. 



[135] 



^ceosos:B:B:8:iX}So^^ 



Xrout Fisning 



IF you go as far as Black Creek to fish for speckled 
trout, 
You'll be delighted with the trip, and the 
country 'round about. 
You may not catch a mess of fish, but you will have some 

fun. 
You'll see the hills, the trees, the flowers; enjoy them 
every one. 

In your hand you have a fish pole ; on your hook a garden 

worm, 
And you cast it in the shadows of the brook at every turn. 
And you watch for speckled beauties, hoping they will 

take the bait. 
If you're fishing in September, you will find it rather late. 

If you're anxious to catch big ones, you may crawl out 

on a log — 
Find the log is very slippery, find yourself off in the bog; 
Or you scramble through the bushes looking for a shady 

spot. 
Catch your foot in fallen branches — take a tumble, like 

as not. 



[136] 




'what you caught in E.\RLi „ 
See page 137 



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TROUT FISHING—Continued 

In the brook are watercresses ; but the bank looks fairly 

hard. 
Then you put your foot upon it, and you find it soft as lard ; 
Scrape the mud then off your trousers ; you don't mind the 

dirt a bit, 
And if you have wet your trousers, you will soon get 

used to it. 



I 


When the trout won't bite grasshoppers, they will often S 


1 


jump at flies, | 


g 


You don't want so very many, but you like the largest size. g 


1 


Then at night you tell fish stories, and you boast what | 


1 


you have done, g 


I 


What you caught in early morning, also at the setting sun. c| 


I 


You return to camp at nightfall, with an appetite that's g 


I 


strong, 1 


I 


You're at peace with all your fellows; would not do a c 


I 


thing that's wrong. c 


X 


In the pure air and the sunshine, you have had some hours r 


r 


of pleasure, S 


I 


Sport like this we urge upon you when you have a day S 


1 

1 

X 

1 

z 

^:d:8:a»: 


of leisure. ? 

1 

1 
1 

1 



[137] 



A R 



emembrance 



V - g" CHARMING town is Barrie, on the west of 

m 1 Simcoe Lake, 

^ ^ And the country 'round is beautiful whichever 

road you take; 
When you get upon the hilltops you see far Laurentian Hills, 
And the ozone you are breathing will cure you of your ills. 

On every side you notice that there are fruitful farms. 
And waving grain on every hand adds to the country's 

charms ; 
'Round every house where'er you look you see abundant 

flowers, 
And climbing vines turn porches into lovely shady bowers. 

The grazing cattle in the fields bring to your mind content. 
For every day in such a place you have a day well spent ; 
Far from the turmoil and the strife of any modern city, 
For those compelled to live therein your heart is filled with 
pity. 

A home off in the country — this is the normal life, 

All nature tends to turn your mind from envy, pride and 

strife. 
To thoughts of love and gentleness, to kindly thoughts for 

men. 
And if you do a kindly deed, this thing you'll do again. 




YOU SEE ABUNDANT FLOWERS 
See page 138 



To D. McL. 

At the home of McLaren is where peace abides, 
And everything good you will find there besides, 
The love of the children and many a friend, 
With comforts and pleasures and that without end. 

The father and mother work together to guide 
The children, that to them there shall no ill betide, 
And grandmother, too, with her mild, gentle way, 
Makes the home so attractive no children will stray. 



They send out to strangers and bid them enjoy 

The comforts of home, without any alloy. 

God grant that their hearts have their full share of bliss, 

And be greatly rewarded for a deed such as this. 

Truly this kind of home is what makes a great nation. 
It shines like tlie sun, exalts every station ; 
It's a friend to the rich, lends a hand to the poor, 
And the blessing of God is laid at its door. 



[139] 



Hott 



les 



^^^^^HERE are different kinds of hobbies that a man 

M ^j can cultivate^ 

^^1^^ Sometimes he starts in early, sometimes he starts 

in late, 
One man will hunt the "grizzly" in his Rocky Mountain den, 
Another seek the wilderness where no one else has been. 

One man will wade a mountain stream to fish for speckled 

trout. 
And he is sure to catch them if he knows what he's about. 
Another man will roam the fields to find some curious 

flower. 
And in this way contented pass many a pleasant hour. 

One man in reading many books will recreation find, 
Another seek in babbling brooks the charm that soothes 

his mind. 
Some men will play at auction bridge or poker half the 

night. 
This is the way they spend their hours; they must do this 

for spite. 

Some men will follow in the crowd to see a baseball game. 
Though they sit out on the bleachers, they enjoy it just 

the same. 
Some men will drive a golf ball as far as can be seen, 
And when they have good fortune it lands upon the green. 

Another man with wanderlust will go to foreign shore. 
And when he finds some wondrous thing, he'll hunt again 
for more. 



[140] 



HOBBIES-— Continued 

One man will buy all sorts of stamps and get a choice 

collection, 
Another buys a lot of coins and thinks they are perfection. 

One man who owns a steam yacht sails o'er the deep blue 

sea, 
But this takes a pot of money, this hobby's not for me, 
Another has a sail boat and he gets lots of sport. 
And boasts about the fun he's had, when he gets back to 

port. 

Some men are not contented unless they're with the ladies, 
Some like to have large families : are very fond of babies. 
Another man of different mind just hates a petticoat. 
Would rather have a saddle horse, or drive a billy goat. 

Some men are fond of eating, and over fond of wine. 
This is about the poorest way a man can spend his time. 
Another man will dream a while, then write some verses 

down 
About some shady woodland scene or perhaps about the 

town. 

Thus many men of many minds find different things to do. 
Now when you think these over, which one appeals to you ? 
For you must have some "hobby" to keep your mind at ease, 
There is a great variety, you may choose which one you 
please. 

Let every man seek out the thing that gives to him most 

pleasure, 
No matter what its value, to him it is a treasure. 



Troutl 



c 



HERE are times when you have troubles you 
would much like to forget, 
You find when you would shake them off, they're 
sticking to you yet. 



In times like these, some men you know will drown their 

cares in drink. 
And others play at solitaire, when they don't want to think 
About the troubles pressing hard that much distress their 

minds. 

Sometimes the trouble's lack of health, but there are other 

kinds ; 
We do not need to mention them, each man has got his own, 
Though he do his best, he often finds, it hard to keep 

them down. 

Some spend their time in club rooms ; 
Dissipation is much worse 
When some men go off fishing; 
Some write a lot of verse. 

The man who goes off fishing, in some vast wilderness. 
Forgets his cares and troubles, and all of his distress. 
But the man who write the verses, inflicts them on his 

friends ; 
For making further trouble, how can he make amends? 



[142] 



GSo^ox&:eo^o^oso^cB:;^od:i^^ 



Jingl 



es 



IN WRITING of verses I am like a small boy, 
That has just been presented with a little new 
toy. 
The ryhming of verses so runs in my head, 
That I frequently find that I go late to bed ; 
For the hour that's best suited is close to midnight. 
As I wait for the "Ji^^g^^s" before I can write. 
Some men play at "Bridge" and thus spend their time, 
But in writing of verse is the way I spend mine. 
And it really has given me a whole lot of fun. 
To find I can finish what I have begun. 

M. W. F. 



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C8:y:b»»»»»:e»:8»:e:ec0:e:0»»»:( 


THE AUTHOR 



[143 J 



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